It’s been months that I have tried, and failed miserably. I am sick and tired of thinking that things will get better. Because I have realised that it’s the reality that is in front of me. And no, things aren’t destined to get better. They just don’t.

You have not changed, despite how much the foolish I wanted to believe it would be the case. Yes, history repeats itself, and I find myself feeling an utter fool, all over again.

Being irritated sucks. Specially if one is clueless as to what the cause is. I wonder to myself, if it is me, or you. Or may be both of us.

Patience has its limit. Yours and mine both. I guess mine ran out first. Well, it lasted for a while. I am proud of it. Longer than I thought it would. May be longer than you thought it would too. ( something to be proud of? May be..not sure)

Here I am back in that emptiness. The feeling of having made the same blunder, the same old feeling, the same old stuff. Yea the “stuff”, your favourite ending to a sentence.

You say the food was tasty, and that there was enough salt. I am grateful that I was not anywhere near you, I am sure I would have throttled you with my bare hands! If I wanted the taste of salt to be analysed, I would have got the good delivered to my dad, he is the expert at it. His comments on food for the last 25 years resonate in my ears. They were always on the amount of salt. I am tired of salt, and the comments on salt. May be I am tired of other things too…

I wonder how oblivious one can be, you just proved that my wildest dreams to be beneath your capacities.

Who knows, maybe you are a miracle come true.

On the levels of obliviousness of course, sadly nothing else!

It has been a while since I thought “sex” in an analytical way. But then Hans got me thinking in a different way. Sex, relationships, abortion and other matters I normally think of, linked up to what I usually work on, after a conversation with Hans. And for a change, I think of climate change. And that too with a sexy effect to it.

Yes I guess I am playing with words as I usually do. I was never too good at being too serious when I was typing out things. (unless required by my examiners or lecturers) So the obvious tone of not too rational in sentence structures. Was never too good at it, though I have tried to brave my blunders.

So coming back to the point, away from all the abstract, and what I am trying to focus on here. Yes sex seems obviously important to many of us around, though considered not a topic worth being discussed in a serious manner. Unless put into innuendos of sentences with sexual connotations and intended double meanings. (totally piss me off, but I think it has become a habit of many who are venting their frustration and practicing their freedom of expression)

Even most of us in relationships never speak sex. Why have that chat? Horrendous it is. And not meant to be discussed by those good souls who have utmost respect for each other. (and die of frustration within) I hit epiphany on the same matter when I was discussing my frustration on the same lines, with everybody but my partner. No I did not put a discussion forum on my sexual life, just that we women seem to be capable of talking about many things with girlfriends, and among that many, lies this topic sex too, I guess. So here I am the pandit, happily venting my frustration with my best friend, while the man who matters is absolutely clueless about what runs in my mind.

Yes, never thought that I would run out of words, words to vent, words to express myself. Guess it does happen to the most talkative of us. A moment of running out of words, when silence creeps in and then it kind of resides, and then makes its permanent residence within us.

Well then there is always a time to act.

Muscle up all the courage and have that conversation, that terrible awkward conversation, as to why things were not the way you want it to be, and why the hell was it not the way you want it to be.

I did have that talk and realised that it sure can do wonders 🙂

He comes there for a reason. Though it seems he is there without a reason. At first glance that be the judgement. But frequent sighting of him, changes opinion.

She had seen him there, often, at lunch hour, alone, with his beer glass in front of him, looking around, with no look of waiting, or waiting for someone. He would look at the crowd, and would take his own time at it. He was not good looking, neither that bad looking, may be in his early fourties. She was not sure, and was not bothered of assurance.

Frustration was a new feeling. Sexual frustration, , something she never thought she would feel. But endured immensely, at most times, of late. Abstinence much adored was draining her, and while all this happened, “He who mattered”, seems not to notice, what it be the obvious.

Yet the predator did see it, sense it and cherish it.

Was it the look in her eyes? That empty stare while listening to the conversation, or the head that leaned on His shoulder, and the inept way He reacted to her gesture? Was it just the non interest or the indifference she possessed for the two souls that were her companions? Or was it the female hand she toyed with while He seemed to be making an effort at caressing her skin with a forced effort? Or was it all this that sent signals of “damsel in dismal” a “possible prey alert” for him?

Change of chairs. Simple trick. He was right in front of her face, and she needed no effort on her part to catch his eyes.

And he stares. And waits. And awaits her signal.

“Creep alert!”. Red lights on, flashes in her mind. Reaction needed. Urgent!

For once, she knew the cause of his presence. Every day, same time, same beer, same expression, same claws awaiting their prey.
Frustration yes, desperation, yet NOT.

Pulling back of chair. Holding of hands. She was out of his sight, and out of Barefoot.