I have organised a second date, a kissing date with the lovely boy I recently met.
I tweeted this yesterday while I was thinking about it:
Head full of kissing date possibilities. Anticipation might be one of my favourite things
— Ferns (@Ferns__) November 16, 2015
Text: “Head full of kissing date possibilities. Anticipation might be one of my favourite things”
I got a great question about it via my Ask Me page:
How do you experience anticipation?
I love that question because it’s so hard to answer.
Anticipation is delicious because all of the possibilities are still in play, and they are almost endless.
For me, anticipation is an open door at the end of a long corridor, and as I move towards it, I can see ever-changing light and colour and impressions and movement on the other side. All of it bright and appealing and nebulous.
I move towards it slowly because I don’t want those possibilities to be narrowed down and that’s inevitable as you get closer and what’s on the other side starts to solidify. I want to keep all the possibilities on the table for as long as I can because sometimes the potential for something can be much more powerful than the actual thing. It’s boundless and fascinating and not yet tested for veracity.
And the openness of it fires up my imagination and fills my head because there are so many thoughts that swim around in there, each clamouring for attention, like a rich kaleidoscope of moments and feelings and actions and outcomes and interplays.
And at the same time as I am reluctant to let go of the possibilities, I also want to bolt towards that door as fast as I can because I really can’t wait to see what’s on the other side. The thrill of discovering it is something else again.
I kind of love that I have to give up one thing to have the other. And it will always be that way.
And while there is something immensely seductive about all of the possibilities being on the table, I know that any one of them will be worth stepping through that door for.
So that’s how I experience anticipation.