In a world full of lonely people, who cannot find love, it is terribly egoistic and rude of me to want two men and to not decide which one I love more.
It would be so much easier if I could just take the best out of both them and combine it. But no.
One is intelligent, good-looking, hilarious and sarcastic. He has a lot of friends, drinks a lot, travels a lot, knows a lot and expects no less than the best. But he is pretentious, spoiled and doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Yet, he loves me. And offers me the world.
The other one is handsome, funny, ordinary, nice. He loves his family, has one or two friends, and many talents and hobbies. He is a loner, he enjoys good music. But he is afraid to be hurt and doesn’t share his feelings. Yet, he loves me. And offers me his heart.
Everything I hate in one of them, I love in the other. I am happy with one of them. I am blissful with them both. I would be sad if I lose one of them. I would be miserable without them both.
I cannot choose. Or maybe I don’t want to. But in fact, all I do is putting a desirable soul into different bodies, pretending it’s love.
And maybe, just maybe, I haven’t found true love yet. Cause if I had, I wouldn’t feel obliged to choose. True love does not have to be chosen. It has to be certain.
M. Stefanova, 6 January 2013