Unwritten Words

Guillhe

I don't do Hinge. Well I do. I just don't like the way it makes me feel these days. Like I'm putting myself up to sale from the highest bidder. Who will want me? Will it be you? Who will entice me with great conversation? The dude with the funny profile or the one so bland it could be fake?

But as I have always in the past, I find myself on there. With you, Guillerme, I had no idea what to think. Your pictures did little to hint at how you really look. Like every single one of them was you, but due to lighting or posing, they somehow all look different. It's amazing really. So I was unsure if I even found you attractive. 

I think what drew me towards matching with you was the fact that you seemed very worldly, multicultural--something I feel I lost coming back from Spain to America. I made conversation with you, and yeah, found you interesting, but Hinge burnt me out.

I went on a date with one guy from it and he ghosted me hard. Talking to anyone else after that took more effort than I care to admit. Hinge became a very lazy past time. And you were one of the few ones that stuck around after I didn't respond for 3 days hahaha. 

Out of pity really, I agreed to go out with you. You deserved something after waiting around for me lol. I didn't expect anything from it. I even told my mom, "Yeah, I don't want anything from this. I think he's cool and interesting and that's about as far as I deem it's going to get." I lowkey thought you even looked a little gay. Like I expected your mannerisms to be feminine in a way, just from the vibe of like two of your photos. 

And I was wrong. Absurdly wrong. 

You were pretty. And yeah, in some way, very hot. Talking with you was fun and interesting, but you also flirted spectacularly. Our evening went from a coffee date to a walk on the beach and dinner and ice cream and I was not prepared for any of that. 

And then. We kissed. And kissed. And kissed. 

It would've been a typical make out sesh, like the ones I've had in the past, except you were gentle. Soft. Kissing my forehead. My hand. My neck. My nose. Caressing my ear, stroking my hair. Hands lingering down to the warmth of my thighs and then deeper down to...

You held me like you had known me all my life and adored me. It's weird wrapping my heard around the fallacies in that statement. Since you don't know me. Or God. Or my soul. My heart. What makes me laugh, angry, or sad. You know so very little. And I know so very little of you.

But I let myself stare into your eyes and get lost in that storm. Where two blue oceans collided and rolled into one another, and each of our depths were revealed to each other just from the surface. 

I shall not continue to make assumptions. Or fantasize your thoughts for myself. I don't know how you see me or what you want from me. What I do know is that I haven't been able to sleep without thinking of you, or work without constantly remembering our night together. You have become a sudden sinful distraction. 

And I cannot wait to see you again.