A crocus will come up every year. If you pick it, that one dies, and doesn’t return. I’ve had moments in my life that were distinctly reminiscent–where you don’t want to be the person to interrupt something amazing. How can one tell if one’s replanting a crocus or picking and killing it? And if the latter, is that something you’d be willing to be responsible for?
I suppose, though that’s not quite what I’m concerned for
It’s a responsibility – changing a relationship. Taking on a person and their needs and wants and yours and drat – It’s just scary, I suppose. I guess I’m a ‘good girl’ under and I’m not being anything different yet.
When I want a relationship – it happens. It’s the want and tug and pull that’s easy.
“I want this” is simple.
I don’t think gender has a lot to do with it, but also in a very big way it does. It all depends on what the topic is and the situation. Where the Dance is, who’s leading.
The pursuit is fine. It is not the problem. I like the pursuit – it’s fun. The twirl is wonderful. Meeting someone new is never a problem. Because no matter, you’re still in the chase then. You’re just beginning the first steps. It’s the decisions, the finality that gets me.
It’s the dedication – the previously mentioned dedication. The step that cannot be recalled
That last final flinging yourself into the abyss. The word, the kiss. That whatever it is that shifts everything sideways.
I am the empress of delay.
Choosing in that moment – I am afraid to say Yes.