Mindf**king

That's what I want.

When I met the dark-haired girl, I had pretty much decided that I was going innocent.  I would turn my back on relationships with psychological depth, where exploring and embracing the darkness within featured as much as anything else.  I decided to build an ideal exterior and an ideal interior to match, in hopes of finding happiness and optimism.  We all know how that turned out.  The dark-haired girl was the living example of self-suppression being a ticking time bomb.

The psych major has reminded me of what a more provocative relationship can be like.  The date with her was similar to the one with the patron of the arts the week before in that we talked about social issues and some of our personal experiences.  It differed though, in that this time there was a push and a pull.  She thought out loud, as I do, and she could simultaneously cut me down and flatter me.  It was exhilarating.

I allowed myself to be a little more provocative than usual, to toss out riskier jokes, to state aloud that we would inevitably kiss in ten minutes.  She asked me if I tried to be a puppet master, and yet copped to considering running a dominatrix service with her sister.  It was ego and brashness run amuck.  It was fun.

Although I'm not even sure if we'll go on a second date, as she's currently ruminating on my request, this is a bomb detonating in my path.  I need to find someone who will safely mess with my head.  Not in the negative, controlling way, but in the shared self-confident back and forth between intellectual equals.  I can't dumb it down forever.

I'll try to ignore that this once again lowers my odds of finding someone.  It seems that as we get older, we're less like to stick our heads out.  Then again, could I ever really tell who the wonderfully off-kilter people were before I met them?