I am a line drawer. I am like Harold in Harold and the Purple Crayon, except not really. Instead of going around drawing out imaginary cities and made up things, I go around drawing lines (and, in some cases, walls).
Most of the time, I’m so used to a) not wanting an actual relationship and b) leaving the establishment for some fun between the sheets that, when I can’t actually hook up with some one (for whatever the reasons may be), I find reasons to bolt. My excuses range from “oh, I just can’t tonight” to “my room’s a mess” to “oh, he’s not from around here, so it wouldn’t go anywhere.” The irony on that last one is not lost on me.
I met a guy last night. A nice one to boot. We were celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday at an out of town bar crawl. We both had driven in from our respective cities for the day/evening. Over the course of the evening, our chats ebbed and flowed. We’d laugh. We’d whisper. We’d hug. We’d throw darts and shoot pool.
At one point, we had our very own accidental Katniss & Peeta moment — it was a Hunger Games-themed bar crawl. As fated as we two seemed to be (I mean, when written in all it’s HG glory*), as the night began to dwindle, I came to realize that it just wasn’t going to happen.
Why? Because I liked him more than just being attracted to him. And that, ladies and gentlemen only spells one thing: TROUBLE. So, yes, I walled. And, sadly (I suppose), he went to no lengths to climb it.
At what point do start to turn to get the hell out of dodge.
*Side note: I’m actually 100% Team Gale.