my careless contagion

This is another one of the posts from this summer I neglected to post until now. Originally, it was two parts, but I failed to finish the second part, so I will delete that. It didn't say anything that hasn't been adequately said already. I know the girl I'm writing about would probably disagree with what I've said here, but we're both adults and I'm allowed to think what I want. She will always be my measuring stick for females. The proverbial dust has settled. I left a relationship and another relationship left me. When you can't have what you want — and that's all you really want — then it's useless to ask what you can have instead. But, let's say I could create my own dream girl. What kind of girl would I create? Well, Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, of course. Except she could squash me like a bug. Okay, definitely not Wonder Woman then.  The best I can come up with is this: I am looking for a woman with a curio...

I've fallen in love with the sweetest little thing.  Some days I talk to her for hours, or, rather, she talks to me. I sit back and watch her unfurl while my mind rapaciously devours her. There is a back-and-forth, too, I should not neglect to mention. We sup. We compare. We divine the future and dispense with the past. Our hearts beat as one, if only symbolically.  What she does to me, no one else can – or will – do. She calms me, almost pets me to sleep like a beloved, dying canine, says the sweetest things while I fall deeper into her. Her words — so many of them — are perfect, like they were plucked from my soul and fed back to me with gentle hands.  There is so much heart in her, it clamors all over me like an overjoyed dog running to greet me like I've been away too long. She is exuberant and demonstrative, but she is only words. She is not the kind of girl who gives her body to me or to anyone else, for that matter. You see, she's not really real.  ...