The guy who taught me this word – I once thought he was the one. He was the muse to my lines turning them into what I thought was meaningful. He was the inspiration for my rhymes and the rhythm of my beat. He was a frog. Just like so many other princes that seemed to have gone through a reverse metamorphosis. And then they always say that frogs love the rain. Well at least the weather matches up with my mood. The cloudy and vacuous sky that has been hanging over my head and damping my non-existing smile did not only bring physical sogginess on the streets but also metaphorical rain in my head. And not even chocolate managed to be strong enough to build myself an umbrella. The only thing I built with it, is a couple extra pounds on the scale – but that’s a whole other story.
This story namely, is about the spring that I have wished to come a couple weeks ago since my life seemed so boring. And about that same spring which I now wish back to where it came from, because it is giving me sleepless nights and a severe headache. But let’s start at the beginning.
After the exciting nights spent with L., I felt absolutely no excitement when I packed up my backpack for camp. The forest was calling – or the scouts camping in it, to be precise. But against all prejudgements, I have been carried away into the world nightly campfires and the sounds of our voices matching up with the chords of the guitar and the sizzling of the flames, warming not only my hands but also my heart. I know it’s sounds cheesy but it was beautiful. I have not seen that many stars at once on a nightly sky in a while. The lack of pollution did not only clear off the sky, but my head as well. Things were so easy. It just all worked out. Not having known anyone prior to departure, I was worried about a billion things – turns out no worries were needed. Because I was accepted and even more, I was liked within peers and patrons. I did not want the week to end – we all didn’t, in only a week we developed family feelings for each other – although I was glad to have my own bathroom back.
Now, let’s speak about the more exciting parts: Not only the spring, which I wished for arrived. There were other springy feelings around as well. And while I had no trouble to give the fluff to the six-teen-year old, who seemed to grab my hands and massage them whenever they were within half a mile distance, I struggled when the good-looking, sexy, and buff T. suddenly decided to give me his attention. No. It was not the romantic kind of attention. But I didn’t mind. Being single since for almost 9 months, makes a woman develop needs – or more – desires. It was a warm and funny night – including the consumption of liquors which did certainly not help my better judgement to decide against – the sauna was not the only thing making the evening hot… Nevertheless, fate decided to end before the finish – making T. promise me to terminate another night which left me, the hopeless romantic, in unrealistic expectations.
Having returned to my hometown, things got weird. We did hook up a second time, but last night, all their was, was the awkward avoidance of eye contact, which made us have even more awkward eye contact after all. I can’t help it, I still think he’s insanely hot, but he made clear that he does not want anything to do with me anymore. And there are the clouds building up over my head…
Because it seems like princes cannot be found in hot sauna nights or rhythmic muses – the search will continue. And even though I still think about L. a lot, I am worried what my questionless acceptance of T. means? Was it the sixpack that made me forget L.’s personality? That would make me a pretty bad person. Or is it the natural attraction to someone who I have just met at the wrong time?
Well time will show.