Direct.

I want answers that I don’t know how to get.

I tried to last night; but you were not catching my drift.

Being direct is much preferred than all this subtle bullshit. The politics of dating really do hold you back, don’t they?

Instead of asking you what I really want to ask, I will ask the internet peoples; are we just fucking?

I think I like you. I don’t think I could see anything really serious developing between us. But this head-fuck of not knowing quite what is happening is just stupid. I would like to start dating you properly. Take me out. We can still have sex afterwards, because trust me, I will want to. Funny though; how when we are at your flat it feels like a little sex nest that I don’t want to leave. A bubble of a parallel universe; popped by the late night train times (that I cannot afford to miss).

You’ve invited me to a party at yours. How on Earth are you going to introduce me?! That is probably the main reason I would attend.

Just do us both a favour; tell me what you think of me. And not just the sexy parts. But the brain bits.

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