ALL the types were accounted for.
The variety was absurdly diverse: The Hippie, the Hipster, the Christian, the Dreamer, the Well-to-Do. I was hoping one of them would stick, and… he did. For a little while, though I was surprised it was him.
He was easy to be around. Weird enough that I never had to feel self conscious. Enthusiastic enough that I never had to wonder over his interests.
Wow I'm learning a lot, I told myself. Look at me. Letting go. Just rolling with it, allowing it, not fighting it, not resisting. Cool. Look at me.
I thought I would be able to let go for for the long term, well for a longer term at least. But it didn’t happen that way, it came to an end quickly.
The beast of dissatisfaction snuck up upon me in an instant and latched it's claws into my skin. It poured sour milk into my thoughts and the sweet story they once relayed morphed into disgruntled whisperings. I cowered with displeasure. But Kaley you're such a runner! It's ok to feel displeasure. Just stay…?
But then it was that my intuition caught up with the beast: You stand alone in your displeasure. He’s already checked out.
With this realization the simple satisfaction and fluidity of letting go I’d felt in the beginning was no longer valid.
And Dissatisfaction wasn’t attacking me, it had merely taken up residence on the other end of an empty leash.
Had I been forcing it?
Perhaps more like blindly sticking with it because I'd become bored with the alternative. The dreaded Tinder. The continuous first dates. It's wearisome.
And it's nice to have a steady. It's nice to let go, to allow. But it's not nice to be holding an empty leash.
And so I let go.
Here I stand alone once more. But I stand with myself, and with myself I am in the one relationship I will always be in. I have come back to my home space. And though it’s a small homecoming, it does not in fact feel a bit lonely nor dissatisfying.