Drunk on love feelings, oxytocin, and wine
They stumble, giddy, out into the dark night street
An “oops” wine stain on a white shirt followed by a giggle
As he offers “let me get that for you”
And his hand brushes her breast
A blush lighter than the wine spreads across her cheeks
Soul-gazing stares and “no one gets me like you do” thoughts
And the mutually used — over-used word — said to friends
“It’s like…we have this connection..”
The long make-out sessions where “we can’t have sex yet” she whispers
He’s okay with it
A gentleman can handle the Blue Frustration
And she sees this
So then, one day, they do.
About 3 months in – maybe 6 (if they’re lucky)
The buzz wears off and he starts to think “she seems pretty needy, emotional, complex…”
And she starts to think “he is closed-off, overly practical and frankly, kind of boring…”
They each long for that Original Night that seemed to last forever
Where everything just clicked,
And they saw only the Good Soul Essence
But it is a different night.
No more fantasy
No more drunken romantic-movie-like illusions about Princes or Goddesses.
They stand facing one another
Truly naked for the first time
Each one must decide
If they want to love a human being
Or an ideal
If they want the thing they say they want:
Actual True Love.