secret motel

I had lunch and drinks with her Sunday afternoon. It became apparent to me that I am nothing more than a friend, a patient set of ears. It's a real hellride to become attached to someone and then listen to her talk about the other men she likes. I don't want to be angry or bitter. But I avoid the front desk as I adjust myself to this new reality. I want to continue to be kind to her, because she has been kind to me. She is kind and clairvoyant. And I wish she had never noticed me.

I would like to continue socializing with her, if I can reach and maintain a comfortable state of friendly detachment. It's not that I ever had any real expectations. It's just that I am often hopelessly hopeful. Hope is just one letter away from a hole.

I'll leave no hope unburied.