You used to captivate me. . . Everything about you used to captivate me. The way you laughed, the way you talked, the way you dealt with things.
I loved the way you looked at me the most.
There was just acceptance there. There was no judgement about the past, no real expectations for the future and no real hope of trying to fix me.
Not that I was really broken to begin with. I think. Maybe a little dinted and tarnished, but not broken.
I couldn't get enough of you in the beginning. You were breath taking, even right in the morning with your hair all over the place and rumpled t-shirt that was too big. You were everything I needed, we were what each other needed.
I'm not really sure when it changed. Maybe it was when I saw you with that beer on the stairs.
The AA meetings were a pain in the ass. I didn't really get much from them, probably because I wasn't an alcoholic. I never really expected to see you there, but it ws a nice surprise. Well, maybe that's the wrong word for it, but it ws nice to see a friendly face int he crowd.
I don't really know why I wanted to fix you, to change you. You were, are, perfect the way you are. That was what captivated me, what, on some level, still does.
I was going to propose that night. It seemed like the thing to do, the natural progression. I had convinced myself that I loved you at some point, that you and I were meant to be together forever and I was going to make it official.
You didn't say the right things though and I realized that I wasn't captivated any more.
And hadn't been for a while.
I had changed and you hadn't. I wanted this and you wanted that. And for some reason that didn't really bother me like I thought it would. That was a little strange. But a lot of things that should bother me, didn't bother me any more and you were the wake up call.
I headed to Africa not long after that.
You used to captivate me, but she does that now.