And the truth
Frenchman and I met on June 21st to be exact. Fete de le musique. A friend of a good one. I knew he was solid.
We went out on our first date 5 days later. Him having the balls to get my number from our mutual and text me the first night we met. “It was lovely to meet you. I hope we see each other soon.” And then he asked to see me, soon.
After the first date I traveled for 2 weeks. Him constantly texting and checking in. I was flattered and started fantasizing what type of man he would be. Attentive was known.
And so in July, after my last trip, we started seeing each other, regularly. The respect was mutual and we enjoyed each other.
But. His past was complicated, just as much as my future.
And as we spent time together I knew it had to end. In fact I tried to end it before it did, twice. You can totally tell when someone is falling in love. Too bad it wasn’t me.
He started school. A transfer of such, same level, same passion. I would never have thought of him except after the first time we hung out together (in a group) I couldn’t stop admiring his swag. God damn he has swag.
And so while I dated Frenchman Swag was cooking in my class kitchen. We would all get together in a group and we managed to always find each other. At a bar, waiting for class, walking down the street, we orbited each other over and over.
But yet I still saw Frenchman.
I couldn’t give up something for the idea of another…so I waited.
I waited until one night, planned by me, “we all went out”., and still we found each other. Then our hands intwined. And then we kissed. We had begun and another ended.
So I had to end it with Frenchman. After 4 months and a defining weekend it was over. I was such a coward. Such a coward. /p>
I chose him.
And I don’t regret it.