Number One

“I want to be number one.” When the words left my lips, I resisted the urge to laugh, to make light of them. I watched his expression closely. His lips had curled into a small smile, I knew half a dozen sarcastic comments were making their way through his mind. Then he caught my eyes. His expression became serious and that was the signal I needed to continue.

I don’t want to be a convenience, a rational choice, the summation of everything checked off an arbitrary list. I don’t want to be a “why not”, but a resounding “yes”. Not to be a fetish or an idol. Not to be molded into something else but to be wanted for the person that I am.

I want to inspire someone, to make him feel invincible, to have the same effect on him as cocaine would. I want to be the train that hits him straight on, the lightning bolt that strikes him, the rain that soaks him to his bones.

And in return, I want someone for whom I would move mountains, one tiny pebble at a time.

As for all those verbal agreements I had made in the ignorance of my earlier youth, the plans that began with “if we’re both still single by the time we’re…” I declare them all null and void. I am not afraid of solitude. I will not explore life with zeal only to settle in my love life.

So don’t ask me “why not”. That’s how I operate my travels, not my relations. Not anymore.

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