So I’m up at 3 in the morning reflecting on the recent choices I’ve made regarding men. Something shocking came to me out of absolutely nowhere, maybe Michael was my greatest love? When I truly think about it I’ve been after material gain for 5+ years, the sugardaddy search is about acquiring things and living comfortably. And I have. I’ve received property as gifts, and cars and jewelry but receiving luxuries in exchange for sex has left me feeling quite jaded and distrustful of men. I’ve embarked on shallow relationships that padded my self worth but left my heart aching.
Michael was someone I could talk to about anything, he was like family. I’ve since moved from the hometown I grew up in but the last time I visited we made plans to get together at a familiar haunt of ours. One of the last posh lounges left standing post-recession.
We caught up, he was single but I was still seeing The Asshole of the Century. It felt just like old times, but he had packed on some pounds and I’ve never been drawn to pudgy. It was getting late, me too tipsy to drive and his place, conveniently walking distance. He offered his couch to crash on, and I obliged. But when we arrived he got uncomfortably close and dove in for a kiss even after I’d swatted him off. Eventually he gave up, passed out in his room with his dog, but not without a true-hearted confession, “Tiff, I have never felt the way I do with you with any other girl… I compare all of them to you.” The timing threw me off but upon reflection I must admit I feel exactly the same way…
After that night he dodged my calls and I haven’t spoken to him since. Being immersed in the drama of my life as of late, I haven’t given him a second though till now. I’ve decided to reach out to him again and re-spark our friendship, see where it goes, who knows? Maybe he truly is the love of my life.
