You are currently viewing Smoke From a Distant Fire

Smoke From a Distant Fire

My period of austerity is going well. I might be pushing the river just a bit.

There are only three possible trajectories.

  1. Meh. No need to continue.
  2. Nice. What’s next.
  3. OMG, I’m drugged with the smell of you.

What could be the risk? (I make myself laugh.)

There must be some non-zero percentage in my mind that she has potential. If I go much further than that, I’m doing both of us a disfavor. Why not just engage? See what the vibe is. Move on if it’s boring.

But, if it’s not… I guess that’s the complication.

I am staying off the dating apps. I’m focused on my writing and resetting my efforts to include income potential. Sure, I’m test-driving cars, but I know that was a distraction. What does this woman offer me? A rash of love poems? A rash of some other kind? An escape from my stable paradise?

Burn baby burn. I want to go go go. I can hit the wilderness and rivers of Big Bend alone. I can go to Enchanted Rock and sit. I don’t need her. I don’t have anything holding me down, back, here. The burning is the goal, I think. Alone or with her. Tomorrow is Dia Day Los Muertos and the beginning of my birth month. Today, I prepare my first book on AI. Not, necessarily an income-producing project. But, I’m also not going to pay a publicity firm, so no loss of money either.

What I am doing is extending the match. The fantasy of my muse is wearing a bit thin. I’m certain the text message scared her. Campfire. Hair. Fingers.

I back off. I reset to myself. Again. Open, sure, but the overt expression of sex and love and happiness is not resulting in the desired connection. Fear. That’s a clear answer. Anxiety. That’s an unresolved quagmire I don’t want to wade into. I’ll sit over here, nurturing spiders and frogs, listening to music, and eating my own passion for dessert.

Disengage. No more test drives.

fear : god  > next | index

 

© 2024 JOHN MCELHENNEY | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.