|It doesn't feel like I was prepared myself for.|
I met a man the other week. And yes, I did not give myself much expectations because I knew it in the first place that I am not into him, at all. A string of uneventful things took place prior to our meeting and neither was the weather.
We talked. Somehow I made him talked about himself and kept me on the clear. Much to my relief everything was fine and despite the fact I was not into the mood, I submitted myself onto the after dinner phase.
The kisses tasted like a perfectly roasted meat, without any salt.
I tried to hug him. Slept on top of him. Cuddled him.
He asked if I'm alrite. He stared at me, looked at me, tried to strip me off from the widening gap I hid behind my unconventional yet sincere smile.
I let him sleep, peacefully, knowing I have let him down, big time. No words spoken. He kept a content smile. No sex been committed yet I felt loads of big stabs being aimed at my own chest...I felt guilty as hell for no apparent reason.
Maybe, I do because he failed to deliver the feelings. Maybe I do because I felt an overwhelming sense of displace when I slept on his arm...it made me more insecure than ever, guiltier than ever. I felt dirty all over my skin and it was one in the morning. I surrendered to the night, obediently listened to the weak noise from the ceiling fan.
Maybe I wasn't ready to get intimidated by romance. Maybe I was not after gratifying pleasures of one night stand. Maybe I am afraid of getting intimate with someone. There i was naked and slept on my side, tried to recalled things I once highly classified as Romance and it just made me sick to the stomach.
Maybe he is just not the right person.