I recently had a date with an old flame, still exotic and vivacious. Sure, she was 90 minutes late, yet we enjoyed a splendidly long Italian dinner. We did miss our play.
In the parking lot, we embraced and I kinda brushed lips near her forehead. She chided me later by text about our awkward non-kiss.
What? Wow! Oooh, boy! Ever the Romantic, my imagination went rampaging. To quote Dr. Seuss, my “heart grew three sizes.” But days later, things fell apart. We couldn’t overcome tardiness, insecurities and miscommunication.
It had been five years since my previous date. More than a decade since I was held tightly and loved. Can such a dearth make you a gawky teenager? Nerve-wracked and virginal? A clumsy rookie? Again?
I didn’t think it was possible. I’d been lucky to have many remarkable women in my life. Hell, I’m still married, if happily separated. I learned about intelligence, vivacity and sensuality from them. Why would I hesitate now?
Maybe more practice?
Love’s hard, though self-confidence is tougher. Yet without romance, life just isn’t worth squat.
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