A Brief Intro

When I met my ex-husband at the tender age of 19, I hadn’t had many boyfriends. In high school I was somewhat awkward. Of course, at the time I thought I was cool and maybe quirky — a trendsetter, even. But I was just kind of a goof, as most of us are in high school. I had crushes on many boys through the years, but most of them didn’t really notice me. Anyway, I only had two semi-serious boyfriends {by high school standards} before I met the one I would eventually marry, so I wasn’t terribly experienced in dealing with guys.

Fast forward to 2010. My ex and I had circled the drain for a while before finally calling it quits, and hadn’t been intimate in any way {including hugging, kissing, hand holding, meaningful glances, and especially sex} in three years. THREE YEARS. Oh, I had been tempted to stray many times but I didn’t. Some tiny, old-fashioned part of me couldn’t do it since I was still technically married. But a chance encounter at the grocery store changed all that. And then the floodgates opened.

flood

But I digress. Jumping back into the dating world after roughly 20 years away from it {3+ years dating, and 17 years married} is a surreal thing. I find myself thinking about things I didn’t worry about for much of my marriage, such as whether I should get a pedi before sandal season. I never thought much about my toes before, or anything else girly, for that matter. I spent years dressing almost androgynously… I’m not proud of the fact that I once owned 3 or 4 identical top/bottom combos from WalMart in different colors, and that I thought it was a great idea because I could mix and match them for work. No, there’s nothing wrong with WalMart clothes. But c’mon, now. How attractive is a grown woman in what are essentially Garanimals?? I didn’t own a single pair of jeans for years because I had gained some weight before and after having my daughter, and comfort was key. Maybe someday, once we know each other a little better, I’ll share some ‘before’ pics with you. But not today. Too soon.

Now I’m slowly learning how to be a girl again. I’m dipping my toe into the shallow end of sexy, still figuring out what looks good on me and that it’s perfectly acceptable {and, to some guys, preferable} to have curves. Thankfully, I have a friend who regularly advises me on what not to wear and to see myself as more than I’ve ever given myself credit for. I’m discovering that there’s a woman under this mom costume, and she’s pretty happy to ditch those stretch pants and oversize sweaters. After years of trying to cover myself up and hide, I’m peeking out a little, and for the first time in a long time, guys have noticed.

In the past couple of years I have met many guys — some never made it past texting, some went way beyond. Not all of them have been bad. I’ve met a few genuinely sweet guys. But the majority of my encounters have not ended well for one reason or another. I’ve gotten my hopes up and had them dashed against the rocks. I’ve threatened to call it quits and start acquiring cats, but there’s still some fight left in me. I haven’t given up hope.

I'm not quite there yet!

I’m not quite there yet!

Yes, I’m still single, and yes, sometimes I’m totally okay with that. I hope that Mr. Right is still out there, somewhere, looking for a goofball who laughs at ridiculous things, is a pretty decent cook, loves a good thunderstorm, would choose an actual book over an e-reader any day, and melts under the power of a great first kiss.

Next up: The Drought Breaker