We men, when we are young, we say things. Do we lie? Do we mislead? Are we plotting to conceal our intentions? We do not even have intentions. We have only our bundle of confused desire.
A young man speaking to the object of his desire will say anything... [H]e is seeking reflection and refuge. It is not as though he is plotting consciously... He does not know himself. He does not know what it is like to be hurt so grievously that you can't see straight for months and walk into things and can't remember to eat. He sees you and likes what he sees and thinks about what it would be like to be with you all the time, but he does not know.
It is just our condition. We cannot be better than we are.
But eventually something happens, and we tire of being confused and uncertain, and nothing we have done has made the future any clearer, so we leap into the water.
...
It was a risk. Of course it was a risk. It is always a risk. You choose from available people. You say OK, enough time has elapsed, enough crying, enough pain, enough chasing: Let's do this.
And then it's pretty much a simple yes or no.
[Change of point of view]
But even when you receive a reply, you must still interrogate yourself, knowing that this other person, for all his apparent eloquence, has no idea what is in his heart. You must be the one to judge: Do I believe he can do this?
And if your answer to yourself is yes, then you are the one rolling the dice, saying, OK, this is my gamble, this is my roll, this is me going all in, this is me studying the face of the croupier and crossing my fingers like a girl waiting for a gift.
--Cary Tennis
