I’ve traveled to a new place.

I can’t pinpoint a specific trigger.

This built over over time, piece by piece. Moments of clarity, frustration, solitude, and heartbreak in the last four-and-a-half years have culminated in the place I am today. As someone said to me recently, we are, after all, the result of the good and bad decisions we’ve made.

Regardless how I got here, I’m here. And it’s pretty awesome.

I am, at present, without romantic yearning or expectations.

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Why are people afraid of me?

A brief exchange with a fellow blogger got me thinking about this topic. It’s not about him in particular, but it was the final piece that mentally fell into place for me. Why do we have to be so afraid of articulating our interests and experiences that fall outside of what the world perceives to be mainstream?

I’d long forgotten about being “Freshly Pressed”, that coveted WordPress publicity that says to the blogging world you are not just a good writer, but you say something worth reading.

I remember when I first started blogging I would read those who were Freshly Pressed and notice with longing others who had that badge on their pages. I told myself I wasn’t a writer and would never achieve such a blessing from the blogging powers that be. It didn’t stop me from wanting it, however. It’s taken me a long time to get more comfortable with doing something knowing I won’t be the best at it. Continue reading

Monday night: Tony and a different kind of workout

I wish I could write about my new fitness regime, like some, but I haven’t quite gotten there yet. My head has been up my ass with work and life. Emotional health, but not physical. Sex has been my only exercise.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I did get back on skates last week, which was terribly nerve-wracking given my accident a year ago… but very satisfying once I did it. I was proud of myself. And didn’t fall. I’m getting on skis for the first time in 20 years this weekend…keep your fingers crossed for me.

I did pretty well with my physical health for a while. I’d been seeing my personal trainer for over a year, except my stuck-on-the-couch-because-I-was-broken phase. Last Fall, he got fired from the private fitness center he worked at because he refused to work extended hours. He was amazing and I didn’t want to work with someone else. I was also irritated at how management dealt with letting me know, so there’s been no personal training for me.  Continue reading

personal growth

I was going to write about Gentleman Douchebags…

…but I realized, while sitting at my kitchen island and drinking hot apple cider as a way to stave off the deep chill (literal, not metaphorical), it’s all about the stories we tell ourselves. When we think about our past, or our personal growth, what is the narrative we believe to be true, and how does it prevent us from seeing our behavior for what it actually is… or what we actually are?

I’ve created some mental space in my life by not seeking out anyone new and deleting those who haven’t made an effort. Yes, there are some men still around, but none are taking up much of my time or energy. I’ve been on an almost two-week vacation and have enjoyed time alone as it’s allowed me to focus on my book.

In trying to decide what to write about, I’ve done a lot of reflection on my journey. I’ve looked at every single blog post I’ve written. I’ve remembered men and experiences long-forgotten.  Continue reading

Christmas dinner turkey

The Plumber came over for Christmas, and other stories.

I write this from a country pub on the same property as the small cottage I’ve booked for myself the next two nights. It’s the kind of cottage I should be sharing with a lover or boyfriend. Fireplace, king bed, outdoor spa, indoor soaker tub, fluffy white bathrobes. But despite three men asking if they can join me, I’m staying here solo. Christmas dinner is over and my house (and I) have fully recovered.

I’m here to write. But what I’ve done so far is eat fish tacos, drink a large glass of local Chardonnay, unsuccessfully try to figure out how to import my posts into Scrivener, flirt with my hot bartender, talk to the adorable young couple next to me, and give the female some perspective on her parent’s divorce this summer, after 37 years of marriage. She was bereft that her Mom is already dating someone, who showed up for Christmas dinner.  Continue reading

Clearing the stable – for me.

I told my Instagram people on both my Ann St. Vincent and my real life account that I was taking a break for a while. I found myself doing dumb things like looking at certain men’s accounts who I was trying to move beyond. It was silly and unproductive.

I went through all of my messaging accounts and deleted the men who I was hoping would maybe come back, but knew they wouldn’t. In WhatsApp, I even deleted the archived exchanges (after downloading them, in case I ever wanted to reference them for the blog). The temptation is too strong when I see a text history.

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optimism and dating disappointment

Don’t let the douchebags get you down: optimism in dating

Expectation management: it’s a thing. Having no or low expectations means they are more likely to be exceeded. Hope is the enemy of expectation management. But what is better? Regular dating disappointment with occasional glimmers of excitement, or never having the pain?

In investing, we talk about risk-reward. High-risk investments are those more likely to provide higher gains. But they could also wipe out your savings. Conversely, advisors will tell you the earlier you can get in the market the better, even with small amounts and low-risk investment vehicles.

Given my experiences this year, I’ve been thinking about the number of dating disasters I’ve had. It occurred to me it could have more to do with the volume of men I’ve met, than consistent bad choices or inherent bad luck. In other words, if I’ve met one hundred men and had twenty crap experiences, it’s not a worse track record than someone who meets ten and has only two to speak of. Continue reading

A wine, cheese, and fatigue inspired ramble.

I slept terribly the last few nights. Normally I’m asleep not five minutes after my head hits the pillow, and I sleep through the night. Issues with relationships fill my mind.

Last night I woke up multiple times. My head was spinning. I’m cycling through so many emotions. Being familiar with the change curve intellectually only helps me to recognize what I’m going through. It doesn’t make going through it any easier.

I think y’all have figured out I have a big brain so I won’t be modest in this moment. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have the capacity to think the way I do. It’s not always a blessing. Continue reading

Dan the Plumber still lives

If you’ve been monitoring my “men in the mix” page you’ll have seen that Dan the plumber is still around. He is an odd duck in a very cute package.

He texts me every morning and every night. He constantly asks what I’m doing – to an annoying degree. We haven’t had sex in weeks. But did I mention he’s cute?

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The universe has a sense of humor.

Gregory told me once he didn’t believe in fate or things happening for a reason. It was a happy accident the Tinder algorithm decided to show my profile to him. I don’t know what I believe – is it true you get what you put out into the universe? That the universe sends you signs all the time, the key is being open to them?

Could it be someone or something cares enough about what I do that Gregory finding out about my blog is the universe punishing me for any perceived misdeeds with Tony?

I don’t know. I’m a practical sort: I actually don’t spend a lot of my time thinking those big universe type thoughts. I’d like to believe in karma and reincarnation. According to a noted psychic, in one of my past lives, I was a very powerful healer. Dunno. But I do live my life as if it’s the only one I have. Continue reading