The Waiting Game

Posted on October 29, 2016


You’re my perfect guy and i’m your perfect girl.

At least, that’s what i’m sure you’d be thinking after seeing the dash of dried soy sauce on my chin and nose like I noticed just now in the mirror.

Look at me – the audacity! It was just one kiss, and now we are moving on. It lasted just one week, romance in the air like a heatwave. Fleeting but boy oh boy. It was sweet.

Its not totally over yet though.

It’s not entirely dead just yet.

It is dormant. Simmering in the mind, taking a rest, a much needed rest to conserve energy before it blossoms and explodes.

I’m wearing hope. It’s my perfume. Not desperation – nor mis-belief. If we do pick this back up, then anticipation will fuel (and delight) this much over-analysed romance.

But it’s cruel, don’t you think? To keep a girl hanging. To not contact in semi-regular bouts. But a delicious kind of a cruel. A mind-fucking tantalising cruel that reminds you that nothing is certain. Nothing is guaranteed. And I like it.

Because I know, deep down, that no matter what, i’m going to be okay. Love does not define me and love is no longer my drug.

So I shall continue to bathe in the waiting game. I shall sit. And wait.