Different Morals

I think I am sentimental.

I think I am sentimental about a few things. Too much.

I think I feel. A lot.

Lot more than I should. About things that are useless, if you measure their worth, if you can calculate their value.

And people.

People who can’t help me, WILL NOT help me. That’s not what they are here for, they are here for a good time. YOU are the good time, they are gone as soon as they find a replacement. Not that you weren’t good, but they like variety, Infinite variety! They will be back soon, to leave, to return and this goes on and on.

And my problem is, I am sentimental about holding hands. The magic in the air, the miracle that appears, the happiness in the ambiance, the unexplained twinkle in my eyes, the boom-boom they put in to my heart, and all that crap.

I am sentimental about men texting me first, after we have spent a night together.

About them walking me to the door/car, opening doors, about chivalry.

I am from the 18^th Century, men don’t understand that. I fail to express why I am how I am. They think I am weird, I think they are licentious. It’s a battle of different morals. Different Morals, explained.

About spending nights together, doing things together that create memories, not having sex but sleeping together, literally. Cuddling, talking, holding hands, discussing ambitions, dreams, dream-jobs that everyone has; secrets, that no one knows.

I want men to know just because we are together in a room, drinking/drunk, we don’t have to make out. You don’t have to be a physically starving pig.

I want men to know that I give u a part of me when I kiss you, I don’t kiss everyone. I wont ask you not to kiss someone else, but it will hurt me, I will feel disappointed and disrespected.

And I hate Disrespect. Respect is God to me. But most people take it as a word they hear.

And now I look back, men I left, men who left me… I look at them on facebook, I see their pictures, they look happy.

Everyone found someone, the jerks are still jumbling women, sleeping with a different woman every night. I wonder how they don’t get sick of watching a different bed each night. Another woman, another way of talking, another pair of eyes, feet, another phone number, another voice, accent, hands, way of dancing, another choice of drinks, restaurants, dressing. But then they prefer variety.

Then I look at the good men I have had in my life, who left because they had to and those who I left cuz I had to. They have found another good girl, I will be mean enough to add, not as good as me.. but they did. I am happy for them, sometimes it makes me sad, a little jealous. But they deserve it. They deserve what they have, everyone does.

Its just living lonely, feels good, just not right.

And I am a sentimental person.