ball up
I’ve had some really intersting feedback on what I usually write… emotionally, savvy, full of adjectives. I’m glad some of my friends really “get it.” Casey Smite, my best friend of over 15 years being one of them. Love that/her/us/it all.
I took my lunch yesterday to tell a man how I felt. I mean, it was good. There was no real rejection other than trepidation. It’s scary to devote yourself to anyone much less me. I’m a gamble and I know it. I’ve never been too close with my family so there’s that. Then there’s the party-girl mentality I’ve always got a little streak of running through a night or two here and there. There’s the professional that never seems to die down and the constant desire for love and acceptance. I wish I were quieter about who I am, but why keep everything on the low-low. Even if you don’t identify, you probably don’t mind sitting next to me wherever we are. At least you know I’m not faking anything. I mean, dern. That counts for a lot, in my book.
So I told this man how I felt which was, I think he’s the most beautiful man I’ve been involved with in years. He reminds me in his emotional composition of Nathan Burkett, but younger and a lot less jaded and less numb to some things. Even the long hair. I mean, his smell makes me turn in my step and walk the other way and that’s just not fair. I don’t like anyone having that kind of power over me. So he loves me, but we won’t be holding hands at the Frist looking at the Rodin exhibt anyday soon. Sad, but true. Oh love, catch up! I’m in motion and I need a man in motion!
The job search is as fun as discovering East Nashville. Both are scary and thrilling. I get lost a lot. Am I getting off on the right exit, going the right speed limit, headed near 5 Points. Likewise, am I an on-air personality again, a lifeguard, a sommelier, a server or a something entirely different? Dear God, it’s me Margaret. Haller atcha girl.
So do you think the man will ball-up and come get me? Say yes.
