The Dating (ces) Pool

I'm starting to think that the Lord is testing me, and I didn't study.

So.....in other news, I'm single. Still. I know, I know.  You're clutching your pearls in shock and awe.

No, don't ask me to explain. The important people that need to know (and have tirelessly listened to my nonsense) already know all about it, edited of course.  On here, I don't hold back so much.  But some of it is for another time.

I have attempted to cast my net into the dating pool again.  I think it might have been too wide of a cast this time, and I didn't even mean to do it.  Or maybe like I do with everything else; I have just blindly flung myself "out there" and I pretty sure that I am just going to meet up with a school of piranhas.  But cool ones, if that makes sense. Like instead of consuming me, they are awesome, and I like them.  All of them. And my brain is just coming to the same conclusion every time I have a chance to stop "powering through" and realize what the F.U.C.K. I have done, and then I'm back to being alone because I can't handle talking to multiple people at once.  I truly do not have a clue how people do it, especially cheaters with a person in every town.  I have been skimming through profiles and many of them are the same that I saw back in 2020 when I was looking last time. It's icky feeling. I have noticed a marked difference from the last time I made the attempt though. 

Not by any stretch of the imagination is dating fun for me.  

At the same time, the only thing that I have ever wanted more than anything, is to be a wife.  

And this last time that I tried to date, without going into details because, well frankly I'll just break my own heart all over again merely talking about it, cemented that.  I know that I have this weird demon inside of me that I've always had that is impulsive and dirty and needed to fuck whatever is in front of me just to get something scratching at the back of my brain to shut the fuck up; but at least I'm honest about it being there.  I wasn't always. If you were to go back in time and talk to the me that was ten years ago, there was some odd primordial need to not be alone. I couldn't really explain it, I just couldn't sit still in my own skin. 

I have done the work that I need to do in order to heal my shit. I have had the same counselor since 2016, and we have done more digging than they did trying to uncover the Sphynx. I have been alone for 4 years and can count the number of dates that I've had since on one hand, because it was much easier than anything else that I've had to deal with. I don't want to get to know anybody new, people fucking suck.  Especially the ones that make me feel something but end things in such a way that was proof that they were just lying to my face the whole time. Or at least it felt that way.  The bottom line is that I deserved better, whether I believed it at the time or not. Perhaps some things on my half of the relationship could have been better, but I definitely didn't deserve to experience the abuse that I did. I want to be with the same person forever and that's it.  I think the real issue, is that they have seriously underestimated my willingness to die alone. Or maybe it's that I am so fine with it that I don't know how to open up, until this last time. 

And every millisecond of our time together was everything that I ever wanted.

That son of a bitch, walked into my life while I was minding my own business, completing not intending for him to be there. Maybe there wasn't a spark. Who knows.  What I do know, is that the spark turned into a mother fucking forest fire and before I knew it, I was a national park in drought season. I am not going to wish for him to reappear. Not too hard, anyways.  I tell myself I will only allow myself to be sad once a day. There are 24 hours in a day.  If you don't stop being sad, it is only once. Leave it to my Irish roots to find a loophole to that one. I like air more than I like being sad, so I won't hold my breath. Much.

I'm reopening some wounds by writing this. I mean, not literally, though I guess it wouldn't be atypical. I have always had a tendency to pick at scabs. Something in me has definitely shifted. I hope for the better. Scar tissue builds character, right?