The dawn of a first love is one of my favorite feelings. Meeting a new girl and learning all about her, dates, it’s all great.

Then things grow wrong. Things don’t spark anymore. It’s not as fun anymore.

I drop them and move on.

As the years have continued, I have very sparingly kept a well-formed image among women. They all see me as a heartbreaker. A man they could’ve stayed with forever. Nothing was wrong in their eyes with me. All was gone in mine.

I don’t feel terrible. I have good intentions. Maybe I’m wrong? Maybe I don’t get it. They don’t make me happy, so I leave them. Why prolong it? Why continue? What do I “fight” for?

I think I’m destined for the little bursts of love. Which is nice. I’m okay with it.