I was out for drinks with one of my girls telling her about an old flame, no fling, well, a guy I used to date, fine, sleep with, who recently texted out of the blue and asked to go for coffee.
As I was describing who this guy was I was trying to figure out what category he belonged in. Fling or flame? He definitely wasn’t a boyfriend. Then I thought to myself; what’s the difference? Is there a difference between a fling and a flame?
A fling sounds like a ride you stay on long enough to get dizzy and a mild case of whiplash before having the good sense to get off.
A flame on the other hand, sounds cozy and romantic like a single scented candle in a dark room with no furniture and just a record player and stack of old 45’s on the floor. Like a crackling fireplace-illuminating appendages writhing and intertwined, like the glowing spark from a firefly that mysteriously disappears and reappears in the night’s sky. Like a soft, sensual kiss that went on for too long and left your lips burning the next day.
The word flame really does ooze with romance and passion. Fling, to me, doesn’t even sound fun; who wants to be flung around in a whirlwind of confusion and discomfort?
Fling! This one was definitely a fling. He was nice, he was fun, we had hot sex, but we wanted different things and there was no point getting invested so I stayed on that ride just long enough for it to stop being fun and then hopped off, I’d already made that mistake more than once before.
Although I was flattered he reached out and a bit curious, I politely passed. He was just a fling. Had he been a flame, I’d be too busy burning up to write this.