ENTP & ISTJ

I had envisioned a wonderful future with the ENTP. Our first meeting was initially slightly disappointing, but our conversation gave us a glimpse of how much alike we were, and that was incredibly exciting; his strengths were mine, his weaknesses were also mine. Perhaps he was a little more extroverted and more manual, but we still felt like kindred spirits. He mentioned that an ISTP would make a good pairing with an ENTP, to which I dismissed the idea by saying an N-S would never enjoy the connection of an N-N couple. We spent two weeks exchanging a flurry of texts, coffee breaks that lasted way too long, squeezing drinks with him into my December schedule (if only he knew how special of an act that was) - the way he would pull my coat's hood over my eyes and kiss me, his enthusiasm for taking our conversation in any direction but the current (and maybe a tinge too much of self-talk) - our time together was as bright as it was brief, and after the fizzle I'm left in the dark wondering what to do with myself.

The ISTJ was so gorgeous I didn't actually believe we'd go out on a date, let alone more. It felt rather amusing to not be the pretty one of the pair and to get cut-eye from gay men. He was courteous, straightforward, extremely attentive to my physical needs - he paid for every meal, every cab ride, every drink - it's hard to remember the last time I felt so well taken care of (probably the last ISTJ). Conversation with him however felt a bit interrogative at times (he wanted to absorb every detail) and I started to worry about how challenging it could be for us to remember to accept our differences, especially after a long day at work. Having thought I had him all figured out, he surprised me with a spontaneous comedy bar invitation, a questionable midnight gym session invite, an adorable late night offering of fruit - getting to know each other has been a slow-burning, yet lasting process. After two dates, we established friendship; but yesterday when he coaxed me into our second gym date in a row, his steady gaze on me with those light blue eyes - the same look in that diner at 3am after a night of dancing, as he observed me eat my chicken alfredo - I wondered if it really was just that.

Please tell me that the night is darkest before dawn.

Please tell me you're still around, and that you still hear me.

Please tell me that the night is darkest before dawn.