I’ve been thinking about this whole dating thing a lot this week. Wondering why all of a sudden I’m so open to the idea, when for the last year I have been so unsure of the timing surrounding even trying.
Because let’s be real; it’s one thing to ask a guy to date a single mother but another thing entirely to try to find a man open to dating someone who is actively working on becoming a single mother.
It’s hard not to question what the heck is wrong with the guy who would be interested in that girl.
But suddenly, over the last few weeks, I have become more and more open to the idea of dating. More willing to accept it as a possibility and maybe even something I could pursue.
Heck, I’ve been getting giddy like a school girl over Church Boy, and I don’t even know his name!
Part of it is probably the hormones. I swear this round has been so much easier on me in terms of mood than the last round, but the estrogen is not without its side effects. And one of those side effects is that I am clearly on the prowl right now.
I am not joking when I say that those little patches have put me in heat.
But there’s more to it than that. Maybe it has something to do with therapy, or a little to do with all those Plan B’s I’ve been trying to accumulate (after all, if there are only 30% odds I’ll get pregnant – isn’t it kind of silly to avoid dating on the premise of impending motherhood?)
More than anything though, I think my eyes have simply been open lately.
When up to this point, they were pretty firmly shut.
My head was in the sand and I was walking around refusing to acknowledge any males in my presence.
Because deep down inside, I had been holding out hope that the ex and I would finally figure things out. That we would reunite and everything would be the way it was supposed to be.
And now, I don’t think that anymore.
I really don’t.
I was thinking about it last night, and our chance has passed. There was a moment in time when we could have been amazing together and all the pieces would have fallen right in place. A point when everything was lined up perfectly for he and I and his kids to have a happily ever after.
But the truth is, I derailed that train and there was just no getting back on track after that.
And now, it’s too late. We’re both different versions of who we were when we met. We no longer fit.
We missed our chance.
The last time we spoke was about 2 months ago. After the whole “I thought I was pregnant” ordeal. He showed up with a bottle of wine and all kinds of sweet possibilities.
It all went downhill after that.
There was a conversation where he basically told me that I was the girl he would always come back to, and that he was the same to me. He acknowledged that he loved me and that he probably always would, but that was the extent of it. He had this theory on the whole thing (a theory I’m fairly sure he got from a friend of his who has a girl he has a similar history with – a girl he has cheated with on every person he’s been with since her), but basically it came down to the fact that while we would never get back on the track we were once on, we would always wind up finding our way back to each other. There would never be any commitment, or relationship, or happily ever after; but we would always wind up back in each other’s arms.
The funny part (or maybe the sad part?) was that as he told me this, he genuinely wasn’t trying to be a jerk. He wasn’t trying to hurt me or tear me down in any way. In fact, in his own mind I think he thought he was being sweet. Telling me that I would always be the one that really mattered, no matter who else came along in our lives.
But that he would never fully forgive me. And we would never really be together again.
It was in listening to him weave this explanation of who we would be to each other from here on out, that I finally understood we couldn’t be anything to each other at all. Not anymore. Not ever.
Because the life he was painting sounded like a miserable and lonely existence to me.
And I realized; I want to fall in love. I want to get married. I want to have someone to stand by my side and hold my hand. Someone worthy of everything I’ve got to give, instead of just bits and pieces here and there.
I want more. More than he was offering.
And so, he left. I asked him to lose my number. Told him to take me out of the rotation of girls he was currently juggling. Explained that I loved him, and that I always would, but that what he was offering wasn’t something I was willing to take anymore.
Sometimes love just isn’t enough.
It took a few days for him to get the hint. In fact, he wound up sending me a text the day after this all went down asking what I was up to that night. But I remained strong. Firm. Resolved.
And we haven’t interacted at all in 2 months. Which is the longest we’ve ever gone without speaking. Even after we had broken up the first time, we didn’t avoid each other to that extent.
I have to tell you too; in a town this small it’s quite the feat to avoid running into someone for two straight months. Especially when you live within a mile of each other.
I’ve done good.
It’s over. And he is going to live the life he wants to live (dating without commitment or love) while I try my darndest to go in the other direction. To find someone who loves me enough to take a chance on me.
Someone who makes me feel like he used to.
Even beyond that, I’ve honestly found myself hoping and praying lately that he will let his guard down again and find someone to share his life with as well, mostly because I do think he is so much better than the guy he’s trying to be right now. I’ve seen the man when he’s in love. I’ve seen the man he can be. I know he deserves more than what he’s choosing.
I know what he looks like when he is truly happy, and he hasn’t been that in a long time.
But, that’s not my problem anymore. And in reality, it hasn’t been for a while.
Something funny has happened in the final healing of this break though. I have started to pull my head out of the sand and look around. I have begun to see those in my presence again. I have found myself crushing for real. Something that I haven’t felt since the first time I laid eyes on him.
And it’s a good feeling.
Especially when I realize that many of those eyes I’m meeting are looking right back at me.
Checking me out!
I don’t know where I’ve been for the last year. If I had just forgotten that there were men that find me attractive, or if I’ve intentionally been ignoring the signs.
But now that I’m waking up again, I’m remembering that there are men out there. Men who are interested in me. Men who want more from me than a lifetime of nothing real.
And I’ll tell you what; all of this is leading to a girl who is definitely getting her groove back.
A girl who is returning smiles and flirtations.
A girl who believes she is worthy of someone special.
A girl who is willing to take a few risks in order to find that person.
A girl who even looks in the mirror some days and thinks “Damn! I look pretty good!”
In fact, I caught myself thinking that just today. I had woken up this morning and for whatever reason thrown on my fancy pantsuit that I almost never wear (because there are hardly any occasions that call for me being that professional at my job). I did my hair and makeup and spent the rest of the day checking myself out every time I passed a mirror.
Thinking that even on the hormones (with the bloodshot eyes and the swollen belly) I still looked like quite the catch.
Of course, at lunch I managed to spill lentil soup all over my white shirt.
Just the universes way of reminding me not to get too cocky.
But still, I feel good. I feel like he is out there. Waiting for me to find him.
Like now is my time.
And baby or no baby;
I’m getting this dating train back on track.
ADSPACE
