Under the Stand of Intrigue

I knew he liked me. I knew his eyes were on me as I sat, conversing with another. I knew the lines out of my mouth sputtered up his brain wave lengths. I could tell by the surprise gleam that coated his eyes the instant my line was out. I knew in his reactions, he was intrigued.

I kept my distance.

But it was a feeling I recognized. This is what I used to catapult for. I could live off of this feeling. I do not think I am complex. But I am creative.

At least in one category or another.

As I have got older, I meet more people that have more experience. Like me.Less surprises them.  As children we go so much with the flow because we do not know what to believe, what to understand or trust and growing makes us more aware. We are not surprised at much. Then we reach that bubble of our personality that determines what we are surprised at. And it diminishes over time because we become accustomed to it.

I don’t live for that intrigue anymore. For those reactions.
I think that’s part of the reason why I’m shuffling around. I think I thought that was my purpose. At least something that I knew made me happy. But in the end it isn’t sustainable happiness.  I can’t interest everybody at the rate I would like while dating someone. I think that was a difficult pill to swallow.
But it is good, very good, to have come to that conclusion.

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