(Excerpted from a piece of fiction)
Met dad yesterday. So he says "S (my real name), what's up with you? In love again?".
He is one person I cannot lie to. He is one person I dont want to lie to. I tell him, "Maybe."
"S, men are dangerous creatures. They hunt, mate and keep roving.". He has a tiny smile, but not of mirth, but more of "knowing".
I know he wants me to be happy, but I also know he wants me to be safe more. Which means he will always prioritize my safety over my happiness. Would a 70 year old understand the love of a middle-aged woman? Would he understand that being with you means not just love, but also meaning?
What would he say, if he knew we spend a few minutes talking a day - but we laugh like a fucking riot. We hug like two hungry bears. We drown in the other's eyes as if they we were binging on a Netflix series.
How do I tell him you are not a lover? Neither are you a friend. Sometimes an enemy. At times a predilection. Mostly, though, you are a habit, a lovely habit on its way to become a disease.
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