… no part of me?

In a universe that may not always play fair, but has a hellava sense of humour, I find myself silently wishing the bitch would cut me a little slack as I sat drinking some coffee at my favourite barista in Parktown North. From a Sales Guy to a Coffee Guy, Rocket Scientist, Polo Player and even the odd Magazine Publisher none seem to have made any dent to my dismal dating record this past year. Not surprising when they were either married or emotionally unavailable – two types that I am most drawn to. After all two wrongs don’t always make a Mr. Right and for once I wish I could forget his face in the darkness where dirty deeds are done dirt cheap and enjoy the exquisite pain of anonymous sex but I’ve had to learn the hard way that the best men are already married and the rest of the handsome gay men seem to like being Dutch bicycles. Two for one special and anyone can take a ride in the park.

So, I find myself wandering around my city that is definitely off the bloom of spring and experiencing the past few days of extreme weather from heat to downpours which adds to a confused state of mind. This afternoon, after a gruelling day of eating cup cakes with the world’s largest luxury conglomerate to the sipping of wine with managers of the South Africa’s most private, private bank I snuggled under a cashmere throw with a book and tried to read a few pages but the darkness beckoned and I spent the afternoon asleep. As if he could see my dreams, his call woke me from my deep sleep to say his goodbye before leaving for a destination half-way around the world. As he always does. It’s been over a year now since he’s been in my life, and every time the phone rings my heart beats just a little faster. When I see him at our usual coffee place I walk just a little taller. I seem a little happier when he’s near.

But no matter how I feel, he is no part of me anymore.

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