Come.

And it's infuriating, it really is.

Beautiful, beautiful women all around me. Intelligent, exciting, daring, sexy, cute, capable, interesting women who seem, for some reason, to enjoy spending time with me.

And what do they have in common? They all have boyfriends. Of course.

And I have my own. An ace in the hole, as it were, a distant trump card who refuses to be understood or categorized. A wonderful shining spark in the dark that I grow more infatuated with every day. Is she what I need? Yes, absolutely. Is she what I want?

...yes. A qualified, grudging yes, but a yes nonetheless. I love the prospect of her, like a vast undiscovered realm, so different from everything I know, and yet so earthy, so familiar, like a home I never knew I had.

But these girls. These goddamn fucking girls everywhere around me, looking so good and smelling so nice. They strut around talking about these amazing boyfriends they have, looking at me with the stunning eyes in their devastating faces, daring me to break, to pursue them into their world and abandon mine.

Or maybe I'm just lonely.