… sacred heart?

 My greatest fear is that I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love. These past few months the words have haunted me as I migrate from business lounges to hotels to the back of a car on my way to endless meetings in Hong Kong, London, Dubai and other far-flung business centres around the world that requires a shot of vodka and two sleeping pills to cope with the jet-lag. And while I have found a deep professional fulfilment in my career, I seem to be lacking in any personal traction at all. Almost as if in the shadows that I move in, something dark I have become.

Fast forward a few weeks later, I find myself sipping warm Saki on a cold stormy Highveld evening and succumbing to the charm of innocence that comes with being a child of the worlds’ last remaining superpower discovering the most glittering city of an orphaned continent. A sense of unease that pervades my coming sensual dreams, but challenged by a restless soul searching for sleep in the early hours of a twilight crescent moon. Finding my daemon patiently waiting asking questions you have no easy answer to. Questions long since forgotten and quickly avoided in the breaking dawn of yet another punishing day.

Slowly imperceptible comparisons begin between what you have, both past and present which leaves you with a yearning of a future filled with an unrealised potential that may never be met. And in these moments is where you find the danger – waiting for something that may never come. Just as dogs can smell fear subconsciously your partner in love can sense distance and as the past few years have been the most productive I learnt that love wasn’t enough to carry it through the tough times. When you have to deal with your own shit you don’t want to have to deal with someone else’s as well do you?

And then in that darkness, what you never truly wanted becomes apparent and a deep seeded longing returns in the early hours of the morning and you find yourself navigating towards unchartered suburbs to succumb to the carnal needs that come with being a man. A smile, a kiss, a whisper of love that leaves a lingering experience which haunts your days long after the smell of sex and cigarette smoke have faded into memory. Seemingly at a point of no return, I plunge into the chasm of uncertainty if only to remind myself that sometimes you can’t always get what you want and the pain of the lesson is our journey into the unknown.

Sure we are all searching for someone to spend those Sunday mornings enjoying coffee and reading the papers in Parkhurst. To find in the autumn nights someone propped comfortably on your sofa with a book and a glass of wine but I’ve learnt that I need to be happy with me first before anyone else can be. A journey I am not fully committed to. Because when it comes to relationships we are all living in glass houses and shouldn’t be throwing polo balls anymore. After all you can never really know. Some people are settling down. Some people are just settling. And some people refuse to settle for anything less … than butterflies.


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