Smoking shorted cigarettes and contemplating hermitdom
So, maybe I watch too much Sex and the City.
So, maybe I have a problem being alone.
Maybe the real problem is I got dumped, drank some vodka, ate chocolate pudding and let myself cry.
You know, when I lost my husband, due to my own stupid mistake, I was a fucking mess. Getting dumped for no real reason is kind of different.
Especially when it happens twice in one week.
What is it with men? Why is it that I seem to be the person that is the best for the fling but terrible for the relationship? Is it because I’m not afraid to let loose and have a good time? I still am a parent, when it comes down to it, but I try to embrace my single life. Even perhaps if it is too hard.
Serial dating is not for the weak of heart. I have been doing it for several months. I have met many a man, all a little something, none a little special.
Except for maybe one.
So I met someone, finally, that made me want to take a chance. Then I made the mistake of listening to friends, to rumors. It made me draw back, and apparently lose whatever we had built. At the same time, there was probably never anything there in the first place. I did not give into the rumors, but they made me draw back. It made me probably plant the seed of doubt into his mind.
At least possibly. It might have also been the fact that he is trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his ex wife.
So, the break up.
We met for coffee. I said, “We need to talk about us,” and he said, “Yeah, we should end it.” Just like that. No sugar coating. No nothing. Oh, of course we had small talk. I said some things about how he was the first person I was willing to take a chance with, but I refused to sell myself. There was no point.
I know when a man has made up his mind.
So I took it like a champ. I made small talk, agreed to be friends. I walked out of that coffee shop, got back into my car and went home. Sent the eternal, expected weird post-break up text message full of reaffirming hope, that I wasn’t upset, that we could definitely be friends. Oh, and by the way, thank you for taking me out for my birthday.
You know, it all hurt much more than I thought it would. I completely broke down when I got home.
But now, after some vodka, chocolate pudding, and way too much Sex and the City, I am okay with this.
I look at this as my new beginning. I am finally ready to be on my own. To accept the fact that I am alone, as much as sometimes that may hurt (i.e. make me feel like shit). I am ready to accept that I must learn to live on my own, without some man to pay attention to me. This time, I am really going to make it happen. I am going to learn to live on my own, to do it my way.
Maybe then, after I am finally okay with being on my own, it won’t matter what man is in my life.
After all, I really do have some of the best friends in the world.