The Choice

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

“Trust issues”

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,

Fell away…

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.

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