Meeting the love of your life randomly, without expecting it. "When you're not looking for it, it will find you".
For the longest part of my life, I believed in this wholeheartedly. Against people's advice, that I should be more proactive, and try to meet new people, I hoped that love would indeed find me. That it would sneak up on me out of the blue. So I waited, and I hoped.
It didn't.
Eventually, I moved to Lisbon, a city with a more opportunities. I decided to be proactive, to get out there, be assertive. I kept my eye on the long term, looked for people interested in the same. As tempting as the way for easy sex without commitment looked, it never moved me much. I saw it as the easy, empty, hedonistic way out.
For me, it is a bit like giving up. People who settle for that option are either simply interested in getting pleasure, and have no interest in relating to other people, or, on the other hand, are too hurt or affraid to allow themselves to try again.
It's understandable: the higher the rise, the bigger the fall. The hotter the flame, the deeper the burn.
But the sex alone doesn't seduce me. I need the tenderness, it needs to be a part of the bigger picture.
Now I am despondent. Wanting more than just the sex, or a friendship with benefits is, apparently, old-fashioned, backwards, too straight-minded. It's not the gay way. Men are put off, intimidated, repulsed, discouraged, scared, uninterested in that. They want to have sex with you, and then, maybe, get to know you.
This breaks my heart. And so I'm losing faith. And hope. I don't want to care any more. But I still do.
And thus I am torn between hope and anger.
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