The Dalema

Finding The Woman I'm Meant To Be



The Way You Look Tonight

It was your eyes. They caught my attention. I got to know them well. You have three distinct looks, I know knew them. I knew them because they made up the way you looked at me.

1. The Excited Look.

This look is a toss between the way a little boy’s eyes light up when he sees a fast car for the first time and the intensity you see in the eyes of a reckless daredevil who’s about to break a world record – or the law. The look of excitement, your look of excitement, is was completely intoxicating.

When you get this look in your eyes there’s no stopping you, this is where the risk lives. The young, wild, reckless, free and – of course – extremely happy being single version of you lives in this look. The look of excitement indicates you’re not willing to compromise for anyone.

2. The Look Of Frustration.

The look you get in your eyes when you’re frustrated has a twinge of sadness and a hint of desperation, indicating a thirst for knowledge – determination. It’s the look you get when you’re trying to finish a project but you’re forgetting a part or a step. This look is intimidating – it tells those around you to back off because your short temper is about to come out to play.

Your frustrated look can turn into a very silent but quite deadly look. A look so cold and dark no one in their right mind would want to approach you. After a minute or two, depending on the situation, this look is sealed with a hint of a smile. A mischievous smile pulling a little bit of the excitement out from behind those cold, dark walls. Then your eyes get their twinkle back.

3. The eye roll.

The eye roll is the exit sign, your way out of a conversation or a way to change the topic. It’s your hallway to safety, your way of not being taken too seriously. Your ‘get out of jail free’ card. You do the eye roll when you’ve said something that might offend someone or when you realize you’ve been too inappropriate in a situation or conversation.

The eye roll is used the most by you when you’re recklessly flirting. When the victim she starts to look at you with hope and excitement, with a twinkle in her eye, you use the eye roll to show her you’re not interested. You use it to tell her you were just joking around. The eye roll is your safety vest; it’s the way you stay calm, cool and collected in every challenging situation.

After your eye roll exit, you always revert back to your look of excitement. Then – my favorite part – when you get that twinkle back.

Kind of like the twinkle you would have when you looked at me.

The way you looked at me was what made me stay, made me hold on. The way you looked at me was a contradiction to the things you said – making me feel the way I felt.

The Way You Looked At Me.

Part I. A mix of your excited and frustrated looks. At first glance, your eyes would portray you weren’t sure if you should let me know what was behind them – you didn’t want me to know what was next. Then came the intensity, the intoxicating part, the most dangerous part. The intense look hinted to the twinge of the excitement you have had for me; excitement about what we could’ve been. It was the look that lead me on. It was the look that made me want to open my heart to you.

Part II. Then your stare turned into a look of intensity, frustration and danger, mixed with excitement. The look that made me melt into your arms. The look you gave me with a mischievous hint of a smile kept me lingering. It was the look that gave me hope. The look that made me think one day, somehow, I might have been the reason behind your smile – the only woman you would give that smile to.

Part III. But then, all those looks; the intoxicatingly dangerous excitement, the frustration, the intensity – the hope – faded away. You completed the way you looked at me with the eye roll.  The open door implying you might have let me walk through, into your heart, would close. No matter how hard I tried to walk through, no matter how fast I’d walk or how far open that door would be, you always met me before I entered. You’d always stop me. The way you looked at me would always, in the hallway to your heart, end in an eye roll leading to the exit sign – and you’d escort me out.

When you did this my heart would stop. The butterflies would subside, and I’d be left feeling like the air was just knocked out of my lungs. The eye roll was your way of telling me you meant what you said; we were what we were and we wouldn’t be anything more. You meant what you said when you said you didn’t feel a thing. It indicated you didn’t take me seriously when I said I wouldn’t hurt you. You didn’t believe me.

The Way You Look At Me Now.

I’m no longer familiar with the way you used to look at me – I only know the way you look at me now. Our eyes have become strangers, your gaze moves past me – I’m not even sure you see me anymore. Because now, the way you look at me says you don’t feel anything for me. You don’t take me seriously when I say I won’t hurt you.It says, no matter how many glances you send in my direction, I’m not the only woman to receive them. I’m not, I wasn’t and won’t be, the reason behind your mischievous smile.

But me? I still get caught in your eyes. I get caught in the hope of getting lost in them, caught in the hope that you might get lost in mine. When you see my eyes twinkle, when you see my lingering gaze in your direction, I see your eyes roll, reminding me –

Each and every time you find me, you’ll walk me out.

  • The Dalema. September, 2015

Home Sweet Home

It’s a love of comfort, a love of familiarity – it’s a love you feel when you’re home.

A letter to an old love. An addiction I somehow overcame.

I gave in again. I keep telling myself it will be the last time. Why are you a weakness for me? I know we won’t be together, especially now when you’ve committed to her. You love her – you talk about her all the time. You tell the world how amazing she is and how happy she makes you. If that’s true how can you still want me? How can you still kiss me and be intimate with me? Why do I let myself love you? Do I love you?

The older I get and the more ‘love’ I feel, the more I realize how many different types of love are out there. The love I have for you isn’t the smitten, butterfly-feeling, puppy-love. It’s not the ‘I want to be with you forever and have kids with you’ kind of love. It’s not an in-love kind of love. It’s a love of comfort, a love of familiarity – it’s a love you feel when you’re home. There’s a sense of familiarity when our bodies entwine themselves together. There’s a comfort in the way you make me smile. There’s feelings of trust I don’t have with anyone else. You’re one of my best friends. I can talk to you about anything and you don’t judge me. You only speak the truth to me, even if it hurts – especially if it hurts.

But you can’t love me – there’s no way. You can’t love me if you continuously allow me to be yours whenever it’s convenient for you but only give yourself to me physically. You love yourself. It’s your biggest downfall. We need to stop doing this. It’s not fair to me and it’s definitely not fair to her. It’s been months of this. You broke my heart in a million pieces once and I stopped the ‘being in love’ part of loving you. I pushed you away and said I was done. Then we started again somehow – you and I both always try to end this. But here we are, giving in again. I wonder if this was the last time, I think we need for it to be. But the thought of not being with you again hurts me in a different kind of way.

It’s not the makes-me-cry kind of hurt. It’s not the kind of hurt where I need a night out with the girls or a rebound hookup kind of hurt. It’s the kind of hurt that punches you in the gut and leaves you feeling empty.

So I don’t think this was the last time. I don’t want to stop giving into you – not yet. Not until I know why you say you love me when you’re making love to me. Not until I know why we miss each other when it’s been some time since we’ve spent time together. I won’t stop giving into you until I know why you chose to give yourself to her and not to me. I’m not ready for our goodbye. If I’m being honest, I’ll never be satisfied with us just being friends.

You’re my safety – you feel like home to me – and there’s no place like home. I don’t feel comfortable with anyone else. How can I? My walls are built and my doors are locked and you’re the only one who has the key.

  • The Dalema, 2015

Dumbbells & Booty Calls

For him it was purely physical;
for her it would never be enough.
Because if she has to work so hard for her body,
why doesn’t he?
A few texts and she’s giving it to him
like he’s earned it.
We accept the love we think we deserve,
and she finally knows
she deserves better.

  • The Dalema. June 11, 2015.

Friend Zone

I would erase you, delete every moment from my mind.
It wouldn’t effect any other portion of the time that’s gone by.
Then you wouldn’t exist and neither would the pain –
That’s what you do to a girl when you tell her you don’t feel a thing.

– DLM, 2014

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