Potential.

Much like the baby turtles escaping feeding seagulls, the chance of someone you meet turning into something more is slim. Mere practicalities get in the way as much as the fanciful notion of a spark.

Right now, the possibilities are:
T. A blonde whirlwind doctor I drank too much with.
X. A pole dance instructor named after a comic book heroine.
L. From RSVP -– Waiting on a call.
N. From RSVP - Waiting for her to finish walking the dogs
M. American friend of friend - needing to be shown around Sydney.
C. Disarmingly nice, & intelligent too - but young.
S2. The date from the last post - that went nowhere - Possible glimmers of hope emerge from the ashes.

None of whom I've even kissed, some I'm yet to speak to.
Most will fade to dust, there might be a couple of dates from one,
And maybe, one might become something more.

I guess they're all going through exactly the same process too.

Elevated

A great date is a rare and skittish thing. It inspires and transforms me – to the level at which I’ve been burning the candle for my entire unrealised single life. It’s these glimmers that make me certain that I’m not holding out for some pointless ideal - for some distorted notion of perfection, but for a real girl. One who might like me back, who might just elevate things to a level I have only found in the exceptional shadows of rare friendships. And now I wait to see what last Saturday night might become.