I can’t believe I’m here again. Meaning, I’ve let my heart be broken again. And I have to say let because I saw the signs.
I simply ignored them.
Like I always do.
Am I some sort of masochist? I think I might be. The beauty of feeling so deeply despite the caution. I hold onto longer than I should. I hope. I wait. I thirst. I hunger.
I was hoping you would satiate me. Save me from myself. That was my first mistake. No one can save me but me.
Twenty years later. Why have I not learned my lesson?
To be honest, I hope I never learn. It is better to have loved and hurt than to have never loved at all.
So even though I hate you, I thank you. For all of it.
Now if only I could stop thinking about you.
I’ve been single for some time now. How long? I can’t quite recall. But long enough that I’ve binge-watched everything from Stranger Things to Avatar the Last Airbender to A Different World on Netflix, taught myself how to crochet and that I’ve forgotten how to pronounce Victoria’s Secret.
I’m not sad that I’m single at all, in fact, it’s for the best. I’m taking the time to digest and discover why I’ve come to be single and who I am. I’ve learned more about myself in the last year of “no plus one Wendy” than I had in three months of being someone’s woman.
It doesn’t hurt that I continue to get asked out on dates either. This reassures me that I’ve still got it. The trouble is I always say no or rearrange plans for one specific reason.
No, I’m not courting celibacy or considering some other alternative lifestyle. And no I’m not anti-men either. Quite the opposite, I think men as flawed as they are are incredibly fascinating. They surprise you when you least expect it. (The key is to be one step ahead.) The reason I always rearrange or decline dates is because of finances.
Yeah I’m a girl who won’t go on a date if I’m not prepared to pay for myself or the both of us. I know that’s very progressive sounding despite the fact that I’ve never been on a date with a man that I had to pay. Even when I wasn’t sure if it was a date or not I haven’t been expected, or even allowed to pay. And I’m comfortable with letting a man pay. I’m not THAT feminist.
What I am uncomfortable with is being a loser. What if he can’t afford the check in the end? I should help. What if he changed his mind and didn’t want to pay? I better be ready to go Dutch. I have heard women say before that they could go on dates broke and more power to these ladies. Maybe I’m insecure and can’t know for certain if my shade of lipstick will afford me a steak dinner. Let’s just say, I’m a modern girl with old school tendencies. We live in such interesting times where rape culture is at the forefront of every gender conversation, men wonder if they raped a woman after a drunk night of debauchery. People aren’t sure if eating Chipotle is cultural appropriation or not. So it’s only fitting that I’m such a Stepford Feminist. Maybe I should choose a side. Or maybe not.
Online dating can be a tricky thing if you’re single. It can be even trickier when you’re a woman. Online dating is it’s most trickiest when you are dating as a single woman who is black.
A few months back, after a dozen trial and error moments of breaking up and getting back together, I officially ended my relationship with my boyfriend of two years. I was relieved to be single and free to focus on school, my career and my passions. I wasn’t really thinking about getting back into a relationship or even casually dating any time soon.
Continue reading Dating While Black
Ugh. I remember judging women so hard for saying things of this nature. But I’ve gotten to the point where this statement totally applies. I’ve spent the last three or four years in pursuit of or a member of a relationship, a couple, a duo, a “them”.
Continue reading How to Date Yourself
Three years ago I was coaching a good friend of mine, Lindsey* through one of the toughest breakups of her life. I was there as she cried, cursed, screamed and behaved childishly and never once did I judge her. I stayed on the phone with her for hours listening to her repeat the same story over and over again and always coming to the same conclusion: she had to let him go.
Continue reading Crazy in Love