Being Normal is Vastly Overrated

I'm just a sloth personified.

Someone once said something about new love that has often come back to me over the years because of the rightness of her observation: ‘The best part of a new romance is the waiting.’ Waiting for the phone to ring, the letter (or email) to arrive, for that moment when they finally say those words you have wanted to hear. What is better than waiting for them to meet you for one of those very first dates? Arriving at the rendezvous spot early, your heart is beating fast, you’re breathing shallowly, your eyes dart everywhere. They’re due to arrive any moment and you don’t want to miss that. Your hands are nervous or too still, you’re smiling and couldn’t stop now even if you tried. No matter how the evening ahead goes, nothing will surpass the magic of these electric moments waiting for them to arrive. Either the French or the Dutch have a saying that the best part of sex is climbing the stairs. That is what this waiting is all about. Waiting, anticipating, your imagination crammed full of glorious maybes. The waiting.