Many of my friends have asked me why I’m waiting this time.  They ask me if I am a masochist (probably), if I’m out of my head (definitely – but that’s nothing new), and if I have forgotten everything that happened six months ago (I never forget – though I do forgive).

I didn’t think (and still don’t think) that there’s really much of a reason to justify those questions with a response.  But waiting is hard.  It’s harder this time than it was before – before I didn’t know what I was waiting for.  In many ways I still don’t.  Yet still, I continue to do it.

It is no one’s business but mine (and his) to know exactly what was said that inspired this bout of masochism.  And I won’t repeat those things here – or to anyone else.

But, if you want to know why I’m doing it:

Simply put, I’m waiting because I choose to.

Because the possibility, no matter how large or small, of having what I want if I only wait is infinitely more preferable than the certainty of never having it if I do not.

And because I believe that if I do get what I want in the end, the masochism will have been worth it.


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