Maybe it’s the many days of fucked up sleep that I’ve had, but I’m starting to realize that I want something real, mutual and consistent. I’m not asking for the moon & stars, just a little time & consistent effort. Nothing aggravates me more than exaggerated effort to make up for periods where effort has been missing.
I’m having to accept that this guy can be just as sweet and attentive as he is distant & ghost. He almost always is confident in the fact that I’ll be ok, that I’ll understand, that we can just pick up where we last left off after he apologizes a dozen times and spoils me for letting everything else get in the way.
And I’ll usually let it slide, because I’m nice and I genuinely enjoy our time together, but at thirty, my patience is dwindling.