I spent my time between X-mas and New Years drinking multiple bottles of wine on various evenings while discussing the Feelz with one of my closest girlfriends.
She had just realized how deep in them she was. I was coming down from my own realization for a few weeks already. I was fine compared to the fresh emotions she was feeling. The Feelz are no joke.
We’re pretty similar in a sense that we can’t easily relate to the emotional side of women. Our hearts are disconnected from our vaginas. We don’t seek much from casual encounters and we’ll never hunt you down, text you first or appear needy—that’s just not our style. We also have our guards high up with a personal space bubble large enough to match.
It always starts off innocent enough right (via hook-up culture)? You begin by learning about another human being who you find attractive enough to have sex with. This dude provides adequate enough D that he becomes a consistent source of sexual activity. You find that you can actually stand this guy. He can probably make you laugh or *GASP* maybe you actually have hella shit in common and you just click.
Cool. You just found steady D who you can kick it with.
But over time you get comfortable, you take note of each other’s habits and personalities, if you’re decent human beings you keep in touch during normal business hours, you genuinely start to care for the other person’s well being… and then it fucking snow balls…
You let him see you fresh out the shower.
Hair tie. Sweat pants. Chillin' with no makeup on. These are deadly lines. This is you raw and in your most comfortable state. This is you not giving a fuck about your appearance and him noticing. Trust me, they notice this point. They mentally marked it into their memories.
You let him hold your hand and you’re not even in bed—AND YOU LIKE IT.
The Feelz have full-on attacked you at this point. You’re screwed, may God bless you. You’re in for some shit. I fully believe that the hand is closer to the heart than the vagina—at least for me. Yeah I said it. My achillies heel still stands.
So here you are… deep in the fuckin feelz. Good luck with that, no seriously—good luck.