This is it. This is my life. I feel like a serial dater. I meet someone, I long for their company, I flirt and laugh and what not...then, the date rolls around. After that one date, I find myself grasping for my own space and to never talk to that person ever again. Am I a jerk for not calling? Am I a commitment phoebe? I don't think so. When someone arrives for an important event, 45 minutes late, one tends to get turned off. One can get the feeling that there is no chemistry when two people barely even touch, friendly or otherwise, for an entire night.
Oh well, c'est la vie.
We live, we love, we die.
or is it that "we love, we live, we die"? Does loving someone provide a medium in which we can live! What of those who can not or have not loved? Do they live at all or are they meandering through life in a fog?
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