Thrown into the breathless world of casual dating after that relationship ended, I sought control in extremes. I vowed not to be dictated by the potential of an eventual relationship when meeting people for the first time. I decided I wasn’t going to treat any romantic connection as a project and obsess over it, using it as an excuse to ignore my own life. But I was still seeking connections and looking to bond over mutual intellect, shared commonalities or silly likes and dislikes. Despite my solemn promises not to lose myself emotionally to the romantic options in front of me, I couldn’t quite switch off that need. So I dived into the bottomless possibilities of meaningless sex, telling myself that it was the easiest way to school myself in managing my expectations. Yet I grew weary of it soon enough, when the electric thrill of skin and chemistry started feeling like a monotonous chore. I wanted something more but I also wanted to be met midway.
