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On Dating : Was My Gift Too Much? - kale & cigarettes
On Dating : Was My Gift Too Much?

On Dating : Was My Gift Too Much?

When I watch a kid run down a hallway I assume they are going to fall. It causes me to feel uneasy. Typically, though, they don’t fall down. In fact, most of the time everything is just fine. But I don’t correct the fear in my head when they successfully cruise right past me. There’s no voice that says, That kid is totally safe and happy. Even though we are mostly not falling and mostly not failing my mind is still bent that way. It’s still functioning from a place that we always are. 

The goal is 1 for 1. Everytime I notice something bad I must notice something good. Eventually, the good will be pervasive. 


Erica: So I have a random question.

Me: Yes?

Erica: Was my Xmas present too forward?

I told her it caught me off guard. That it put some pressure in my head and made things feel really serious. 

Erica: Yeah, that’s what I gathered.

She went on to say that it wasn’t meant to be serious and didn’t have loaded intentions behind it. 

Overall, a productive IG chat. 


I pulled up to Doug’s house around 11am. He came out looking hungover.

“I have three kids under 3.5 years old,” he told me.

Which explained the bags. I was thinking functional alcoholic, but this was a more workable scenario for a future business partner. 

We toured his properties and I told him about my concept. A different way to use commercial space. Like Airbnb for creatives. 

It was exciting. All his spaces were unique. I don’t feel envy very often but I wished for a second that I had what he had. Minus the kids.

I was so high on the prospect of getting into commercial real estate and driving a Range Rover that my heart opened up slightly. I used to come home and tell A about exciting new things and then tell her how much her boobs meant to me.

Now, I wanted to call Maddy. To share my momentary excitement and prospect of a life as a magnate. 

I picked up the phone. Then I put it down. We had already texted earlier in the morning. She was starting to feel like my girlfriend. 

I thought if I messaged her I wouldn’t be exercising discipline. That, in a way, I would be showing off my life and not creating a realistic portrait of myself. 

But the desire to talk to her was stronger.

“Maddy”

“You are pretty” 

“Kirk”

“You are very sweet”

“And also very pretty” 

“Would you like to hang out again next weekend?” I asked her.

“I would like that very much.”

“Great. I’m feeling a Sunday museum/bookshop afternoon. Or that wine bar where you day drink by yourself all the time.” 

Thoughts start to creep into my mind that this isn’t the right person for me. That I am overlooking things or trying to force feelings into my body.

I am so unconcerned with trial and error in business. I see nothing as wasted time. But I make every moment with a new woman appear as a permanent representation of who I am and what I am worth. And if there is any doubt that my time isn’t well spent I am apt to blow the whole thing up. The idea of being attached to someone, for being responsible in some way for their well-being, feels like gravity weighing more, pulling me slowly down to the Earth until I am no longer free to move in any direction. 


Ashley had a lot of wine last night and wanted to watch Die Hard.

“Why the fuck are we watching this?” I asked her.

“What, it’s not good? I want to watch a Christmas movie.”

“This is not a Christmas movie,” I told her as it started.

She learned soon after. This is a person who, at the sight of violence in a movie, will pass out.

“Oh my god, is he going to shoot him?!” she exclaimed while nervously twirling her hair. 

After the movie I learned how to play Circles by Post Malone on the guitar. Ashley was all amped and wanting to retell the story of Die Hard via Post Malone’s melody. 

“…I’ve gotta kill these motherfuckers, motherfuckers….”

“…they got guns though, guns though…” 

We somehow ended up on Fix You by Coldplay as she dug deep into a drum solo on my coffee table. Ang and I looked at each other and felt concerned for her.

I texted Maddy and told her we were watching Die Hard because Ashley thought it was a Christmas movie.

“I haven’t seen it, but it definitely doesn’t seem like a Christmas movie.” 

“Yeah, it’s called ‘Die Hard.’”

She hearted my text and went back to making mulled wine with her friend. 


I am just me

I am interesting

And I am completely normal

When I find the one who sees that

Their soul will fall into mine

We will join

And that will be everything

And maybe that will just be me

Maddy and I are in my bed. She is moving slowly from a late night. I rub her back some. My touch with her is still uncertain. Her body unfamiliar. My hands don’t instinctively know where to go. My mouth opens and so does hers but I wait for her tongue and it doesn’t come. Then I put my tongue gently past her teeth and hers comes to life immediately. Whatever I want I just take? I want to know how she wants to be touched. 

“You can kick me out at anytime by the way,” she tells me.

“No no, that’s BS. You’re the one who has to work tomorrow. What time do you want to leave?”

“Well, when is good for you?” she asked.

“Goddamnit Maddy, I’m not answering.” 

“Okay, fine! 10:15…ish. Is that good for you?” she continues.

“Okay, you were so close.”

“Come on! 10:15. I need to leave at 10:15,” she finishes.

“I’m glad we had this talk,” I say.

Perhaps my job will be as the person who chips away at her defenses and deflections. She is guarded from a past relationship. She is unsure about me and taking her time. She isn’t used to sober sex. She thinks I’m too direct and feels insecure. I am presenting a version of myself and she is taking what she wants from that version and making it into something that is digestible to her. We are already two deviations away from being ourselves. 

I take a deep breath. Notice the things around me. Soft sheets, sheer curtains, a person in their window across the street. A slow kiss. A smile. She is here and so am I.


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