Love Is My Hostage

October 1, 2009

What am I still doing here? It’s been days and I’ve been aching to go back home. I’m bored out of my skull. I can’t even write a decent blog. I’ve been cooking half-baked posts in my mind for the past two days. Earlier, I had an inspiration as I was browsing through lookbook.nu. I swear, some of those people are so freaking creative. What was my inspiration again? Wait, let me go get it from the back of my mind… umm… need for tan short boots, no… want red and yellow ankle boots, no… death by boredom, close but no… here it is: love as my hostage.

 

And… that’s all I got.

 

My mind is drier than a two week-old, half-sliced lemon left in the chiller for “preservation”. Hah. Really dry. Uga. 

 

How can love be my hostage? Seriously, what was running through my mind when I conjured that up? Looking at all those pictures must have left me yearning to wax poetic. I think the combination of those artsy photographs and the conversation I had with my college classmate on ym some how got wired into my brain. Aw hell. But how can I write about something that’s so surreal? What does that even mean? Webster defines the word hostage as “a prisoner who is held by one party to insure that another party will meet specified terms”. But who are the parties and what terms need to be met?? Aaaah.. let’s just go back to the conversation. I’m in no mood to talk in circles right now.

 

He said he’s been seeing me around, all by myself. And that he thought it a waste, that I was alone. Brave guy, but what the hey, it was only online. So, I felt the need to expound on my single wagon status yet again. Sigh. I am not lonely. Alone yes, but lonely, hells no. I told him that I “changed frequencies” where love (or the search for it) is concerned. I no longer desire plain old beautiful. Yep, standards have reached an all-time low here. That’s how some would view it anyway. So shouldn’t it be easier then?

 

Anyway, I just put it in terms he could grasp. And I quote: “I’m not interested in good-looking anymore. I’m not settling for anything less than a beautiful heart and soul.” Of course that was still a little too much to swallow, so he handled it by informing me that those guys (himself included) are all taken and that I’d have to wait for them to become widowers to get my chance. Oh joy. 

 

No, I’m not a puritan or a radical by any measure. I just choose to be with myself, for once in my life. Why play when you’re tired of the pretentious games? And no, there is no anger there, or anywhere in me for that matter. Nowadays, I find myself laughing more, playing more. I love love. Got plenty of it around me, and plenty in me to go around. But I’m keeping some of it in, to be “preserved” in my chiller. Haha.  For now, I’m choosing to tread along the road less traveled. Ü

 

…until the specified terms are met. Aack!

 

Well, there you go… I guess love is kind of my hostage. But it is definitely not my prisoner.Ü