My heart is a hopeless romantic — a dreamer.
Almost anytime I get into a situation, I dream in soft colors and pink hues, thinking this is love and we will end up together. I love that about me. And I also love that my brain is rational — it snaps my heart out of it and reminds me that this isn’t love, and if it is, let them prove it before you go all lover girl.
This was the exact situation I found myself in as I read a message from Daniel.
I hadn’t spoken to him since I was a teen, before my move down south. We met in preschool and remained friends into our teens. There was always “tension” between us — the good kind. We liked each other, but nothing ever came from it. When I moved nearly two decades ago, I only heard from him once. I wasn’t hurt. I knew him, but I wasn’t that kind of close to him.
So when he hit me up, I was surprised — and a little excited. Could this turn into something?
Unrequited love coming back for a second chance?
As we spoke, it became clear this wasn’t that. No, he wasn’t reaching out to an old friend or a potential love interest — he wanted a rendezvous. That was obvious from how eager he was to drive six hours to see someone he hadn’t spoken to since they were sixteen. And it was confirmed when I, naively, agreed to let him send photos.
I thought it would be pictures of his kids. Or at least of himself now. And I was right — in a way. It was of “himself” and his kids… they just hadn’t been born yet.
Needless to say, that was my brain’s cue to step in and cut it off. How lonely he must be, I thought, to reach out to a stranger for a late-night entanglement.
It was fun to dream and imagine for a moment. But as I hit the block button and sent him back to wherever he’d come from, I retreated into my favorite daydream — one where I am always desired, and loved only by those who earn it.
With love & moonlight,
Vintessa
Sacred musings | Mystic practices | Soft heart, wild spirit