And the NOT Love Story Ends

I’ve been meaning to write this for several days but haven’t gotten enough inspiration to.

Well okay, I’ve just been too lazy. Now that it’s over, it just doesn’t seem that significant or even interesting enough for a second thought. Anyway, due to a twist of luck or fate or whatchamacallit, I met him again the next night at a different karaoke place. Apart from the fact that he was with a short tattooed chinese guy I’ve seen around and about and don’t particularly like, he acted as though he didn’t see us. Ouch. I actually had to double-check my reflection to see if I had somehow turned invisible.

It would suffice to say that whatever remained of the attraction evaporated into thin air right then and there. And looking back at it all, to know that I can feel even a semblance of attraction for someone is both gratifying and mortifying because I’m neither as jaded or as immune as I thought. On one hand I’m glad to know that I’m not completely dead on the inside, on the other hand I’m very annoyed with myself for not recognizing a player and his game when I see one. From that rises an even more disturbing thought: has the absence of romance – or what seems like it – in my life become so terminal that I blindly jump at it the first chance I get?

Maybe this is exactly why I’ve been avoiding writing or even thinking about this. There’s just too many doors I don’t wish to open and too many questions which I’m not yet ready to answer.

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