Last night, as I sat alone in the airport terminal, I wrote this:
I have been doing a lot of thinking about [our sixth date] and us. First, I like us. I really do. I like you and I like how your brain works. I enjoy the time we spend together whether we’re in the same physical space or not.
I keep seeing you in the faces of the people around me. Your eyes, your smile, your profile. Everywhere I look, I see you. It’s only been 8 weeks since we met, but you are present. You are here because I am here.
I have been laughing to myself all day about how horrible we are at the dating thing. Seriously, we kinda suck at dating. We have a hesitance that is temporary. I know I hold back things and I know you do too because we are trying to evaluate where things may go and what we should reveal and when. So, we’re in this thing together, trying to gauge what to say and how to react anticipating what the other may say and how the other may react, all the while fucking it up over and over again. I know I have said tone-deaf things to you, given your response. I know you have said things to me that have been crushing, overcome only by the passage of time and the introduction of new data points. Seriously, we just have not been able to get this thing right.