Every friday night I go for drinks. And after the first or second beer within me wakes a beast.
This beast wants me to have hot steamy encounters with attractive men (possibly women?). It whispers in my ear, what if you could be attracted to a person again, a person that you find attractive even? It promises me that this can happen, that it will. That I can go out, I'll find a club or bar where they'll play the music that I want to dance to at that particular time. I'll dance, I'll get closer to someone that makes my heart beat faster and we'll end the night as these nights should end.
But it is a vile beast. For I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend with whom I'm trying to mend fences. And it's going well. We talk. We are kind to each other. We work on connecting. On doing good things. But there are no sparks. Not yet at least. And the beast knows this. It also knows that there are no clubs that play what I want to play and that I'm slightly tubby for my country (I realised this week that objectively speaking, I'm the fattest woman in our office. Not that I'm fat mind you. They are just too skinny). That the only 2 people I've found attractive over the last years are in relationship and either a coworker or a soon-to-be-coworker (I got him a job! He's a good friend of mine and we work well together, even if I do think he's hot, I'll not fault him for that).
The beast knows that part of me feels bitter for being 28 and being too responsible to try and mend a broken relationship rather than make bad decisions. No matter how much I indulge myself in other ways. This beast waits all week until it finds me weaker and weaker still, to remind me that I want to dig my nails into someones back. To remind me I'd like to feel that electricity cackle. To remind me that I don't enjoy kissing my boyfriend who I once considered the most beautiful person in the world.
I hate that beast. But I indulge it, hear it's story's, enjoy it's lies, because it's all I can get for now.