Once Upon A Time

“What’s your type?”

Loyal is the first word that comes to mind, but I’m choosing to play coy. Raising a finger to my lips, a small smile on my face. I close my eyes, pretend that I’m thinking about my ideal date, past dates that I did have with others once upon a time.

Wavy hair is cute, brown eyes that burn gold in the sun is gorgeous, brown eyes that turn obsidian in the dark has a mysterious allure. If I had to be honest to myself though, I just like a bright gaze, the kind with the stars in their eyes, and smiles that I’m required to earn.

I wish my type was an easy love.

Dating is easy.

Maybe you hold hands, maybe you don’t. Maybe you get drunk over wine at the edge of a lake, and press a chaste goodbye, only to realize the next date nothing was there as he drives you home after the movie. Neither of us had made a move to link pinkies, rest a palm over the back of a hand, only to end it with an awkward hug.

It’s better this way – ending something that never actually had the chance to start.

“You’re very good at flattery.”

And I remember being somewhat affronted, giving a small gasp as I pressed my palm against my chest, pretending to be wounded. After that, I attempted to be sincere in actions, have them match up with my words. I fantasized about living a sincere life, wearing my heart on my sleeve and saying what I mean.

These days, I’m realizing that I’m better off pretending that I’m insincere. I would rather drift like leaves in the wind, light-hearted laughter and light-hearted footsteps where ever I go, leaving no footprints behind. I would be satisfied to have conned everyone around me that from luck is how I get by.

Fortune favours the brave. Luck favours fools.

God knows I’m the latter, if fortune happens to favour me.

I would know, because if fortune didn’t favour me, I wouldn’t have met you.

The brave and the foolish, there’s a thin line that we happen to toe. Maybe bravery is speaking affection to life, chasing the inkling of “could-be”s. The Fool aspects the act of chasing, head tilted upwards towards the sky, daydreaming as we’re walking off a cliff. By tumbling down is how I feel into your arms.

Accidental – both the best things and worst things in life. The unforeseen. It’s why I pay attention to seasons changing, the natural order of seeds germinating at the head of spring, and plants bare by winter, Evergreens are the exception, but let’s keep the narrative to the usual course of things.

Most living things are meant to expire – die off if they cannot learn to acclimate themselves to their surroundings. For evolution to happen, to make room for better things. And if it’s not better, well, take comfort that change is part of the natural cycle.

“Once upon a time, you were my type.”

Is what I don’t say.