Where’s your place?

Sometime late September…

Spent a number of days with the guy. Yep, the guy. Yep, it was over. Yep, we’re kinda trying. Yep, I’m not totally optimistic.

During our trek through 2 airports 2 different times, 3 time zones 2 different times, a hotel, a family’s home, 2 events, 2 marijuana dispensaries #forafriend, a pier, 2 malls, a beach…kinda, and ALL the LA traffic, I quickly realized I was walking behind him MOST of the time.

Most. Of. The. Time.

I was behind him most of the time. He left me walking behind him to a point of cutting in front of me to keep me in my place.

I’ve memorized his stroll. He walks on the outsides of his feet. Shorter stride to be so tall with long legs. Swings his arm similar to Shaggy from Scobby Do. Not as pronounced, but just as wide.

At the airport, I juggled my bags. Ended up with my purse, my carryon, my luggage, and almost myself spread out across the concrete sidewalk. He didn’t notice. He was too far ahead. Thankful for the kindness of strangers. An older gentleman helped me gather my things, ensured I was okay, and patted me on the back and smiled.

Thank you sir. Maybe I’m looking for your chivalry. It’s not dead, but you’re one of the last ones that’s got it.

And, the communication was lack luster. Mostly nonexistent. He only told me what he thought I needed to know. He left me in the dark often.

I didn’t fully realize this was happening until now. Realized yes, but not as bothered as now. This is major.

I expect the man I’m with to make a place for me, not expect me to fall in place.

I expect that if you invite me, you want me there. It’s okay though. Eventually, I’m gonna learn this lesson.

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