Young love

This town is too f***ing small.

The First man I date here, and my work situation becomes hopelessly unstable to the point where I am forced to give up most of it although it is the only good work I have. I am now dating the Second, and my relationship with my best friend here and half of her family are thrown into uproar. First of all, I am dating one of her best friends and she’s suddenly, strangely jealous of me even though I would now count myself as one of her best friends, too. And then her oldest brother is upset, I think because he had thought that if I were to date anyone else in this country, it would be him. Not some barely legal lover that’s only a year older than his little sister. I don’t even want to know what their mother would say if she knew. No doubt something disapproving and judgmental, considering the difference in our ages (10 years) and the fact that she knows I have a boyfriend back in the States. Of course the Second knows, doesn’t care and it’s none of anyone else’s business anyway, especially since the boyfriend at home and I share a relationship that allows this sort of circumstance.

That’s right, nobody else’s business. I should never have told anyone in the first place. (But now that word is out, I’m going to go ahead and blog it.)

The other thing is that although I am excited to be dating someone new again, I am already experiencing the depths of insecurity that come with unexpectedly strong but unrequited feelings of commitment. A day passes without talking to my new lover, and I am thrown into a depression far more profound than my actual feelings for him at this early stage. I daydream of long talks and walks and hand-picked bouquets made of the flowering weeds growing by the side of the road. I want to be with him every day even though I barely know him. I have never been like this before.

I am more lonely than I thought I was.

I remember what it was like to be his age. I had no emotional strings to attach to anyone. I dated quite a few who were over 5 and up to 15 years older than me. I appreciated everyone I dated and had a good time. But more importantly, I had my strong network of good friends and preferred to spend most of my time with them rather than with any lover.

I am starting to understand why most of those older men I dated often seemed more into things that I ever was, even after a simple first kiss.

Supposedly as we age we grow some sort of shell or thicker skin or some other bio-emotional apparatus to protect ourselves. But I think whoever is a proponent of that has an overly sentimental view of youth at the expense of the even greater sentimentality of age.

Lolitos of the world, I am at your feet.