|No, this is not my ovulation calendar. Gross.|
That's right, 2.5 years as a singleton.
By choice, no less!
(Coincidentally, 1.5 years since my last proper date, as well.)
A little backstory: I chose to end my last relationship after nearly 3 years. Without getting into nitty gritty details (because living in the past isn't really living at all, now is it?), I just felt a strong urge to experience life on my own. Whatever that meant.
Admittedly, I suppose, in my early to mid twenties I was a serial dater. I think the longest I went between dates or boyfriends was maybe 2 months. (Wow, that's a stark realization right there.) But in my defense, I've lived my entire adult life pretty ass backwards. Pregnant, Baby, Married, Divorced, and then Dating.
In short, I didn't really know that, hey...that whole dating thing is a lot better when you know who the fuck you are as a person. (Or, that's my assumption...which I can almost back up with facts...almost.)
So I ended that relationship 2.5 years ago because I wanted to experience my life on my own. And I did just that. I made new friends, dove into improv, bought a house, had great moments.
I had hard ones too. Like losing my job, dealing with being unemployed for a year, struggling to make ends meet (I still toil with that one, but I manage. And I realize it's temporary. Plus, the experience has made me an ideal bargain shopper and deal hunter, and a great budget-maker. So there's that.)
And in all honesty, for a while there I thought, "Dating? Why even bother? THIS is great! I do what I want, when I want (minus the boundaries set being a parent and all), I don't have stories to tell about being unhappy in a relationship, I'm not overthinking stupid thoughts, I'm not questioning my belief in myself. I LOVE this!" In short, although I'm always open, I wasn't too concerned with any romantic endeavors.
And yes, even on Valentine's Day.
Combine all this luscious personal growth with a shift in my outlook on life, and BAM...everything changed.
So then, guess what happens?
Go ahead. Guess.
Not only do I get asked out on a date---an actual date---via an actual phone call---with an actual guy...
...but I'm looking forward to it.
For a few reasons:
1.) I bought a new outfit. 'Nuff said there.
2.) It's been 1.5 years.
3.) Meeting newish (I know the guy somewhat already) people and doing fun things is always a win.
4.) I am enjoying the FUCK out of just staying in each and every tiny moment. I mean, at any given time, all we have is the moment we're currently in. So, for the first time ever, my approach is not, "How is this going to play out?" or "Remember the last time?" or whatever bullshit my girl brain likes to try and concoct. (Fact: girl brains have the potential to concoct a lot of bullshit. Ladies, realize, this isn't YOU, it's a part of your brain that just wants to protect you...and so it tells you a lot of stupid shit. Ignore it. Love it, because it's a part of you, but take it with a grain of salt. I can't speak for the mens...but I assume boy brains can concoct a lot of bullshit too. So if this resonates, heed it dudes. Heed. It.)
4.5) So what I'm saying is, instead of thinking outside of the moment, whether it be future or past, every little moment I have, I enjoy. And if in the moment, something regarding this upcoming date/person with whom I'm going on said date comes up, I just freaking enjoy THAT. No past, no future...just whatever it happens to be at that moment.
Which has, for me, redefined this whole wacky dating thing entirely.
Because there's just no way for me to NOT be full of joy. Sure, there's always potential for this to blow up in my face like a balloon filled with piss, snakes, and dead bees (or whatever else is nasty and isn't something you'd want in your face)...but I know now how to just be me.
So whatever happens, I can go back to that happily. Because in either situation, I'm a whole person regardless. So, you know...it all seems fun and interesting...and even somewhat expansive now.
And based on what I currently know, Saturday (that's date night) will at the very least be full of laughter.
And that, to me, is wonderballs.