I’m a little bored that every time I’m single, I end up writing about men. It feels like such a drain on internal resources. And they rarely, if ever, deserve it. I was watching a show where the lead is a samurai who you rarely see draw their sword - because they don’t need to, they trounce everyone without ever lifting it. They finally meet a proper adversary, and before the fight, say ‘thank you for being worthy of my blade.’
Who is truly worthy of my pen? So few, so few. I would like to think that when I’m writing about my experiences with men, I’m really writing about myself and the things I’ve learned from these encounters.
In the last week, I met a man who sent loads of messages and videos, spent four hours at the pub chatting with me, then twirled me out in the rain on Tottenham Court Road before pulling me in for a kiss. Two dates later, he said things felt relationship-y and that he wasn’t looking for that. He spent a good chunk of the first date talking about himself, his dreams, his past, his insecurities. I wonder what he was actually looking for - he probably doesn’t know.
What do I want? I want intimacy, friendship, intense encounters that remind me I’m alive. I can do minimal chat or maximal, although ideally I’d like someone who I can have a talk and a drink with, share notes, watch a film or show snippet. I don’t need to be spooned; sometimes I want an empty bed after, though I don’t particularly mind waking up and seeing someone there. I want someone I can be my weirdest and my sexiest self around. And I don’t want a serious, monogamous partner. What I would like is emotional intelligence, elegance, someone who can appreciate transience and move more intensely for it.
I’m not in the market for cowards. People who spook when they look in the mirror. Who aren’t ready to meet themselves in a stranger’s gaze. Because I am not afraid of my reflection, wherever I catch it. I can meet my own eyes.
Mainly tonight, I feel sad. For him, for a nice little affair that could have been. I’ll forget him soon enough. The lesson will stay: be hopeful. And be discerning.