Somewhere in these next few days marks my first year of being me post-relationship. It’s gone by really fast, and while I honestly like being single more than I like dating, it still feels weird sometimes after an almost 8 year coupling.
In the last year, I’ve used multiple dating apps and attempted 2 dates. The first guy was supposed to meet me at Sharky’s but he stood me up.
The second guy met me for coffee and could not hold a conversation at all. He just made occasional mumbling about his dog. I love dogs. I’m a dog person. But this guy seemed completely terrified of actually talking to me.
I’ve had a lot of guys get crappy with me in chats because they accuse me of playing games when I don’t invite them over immediately. No, I’m just not allowed to have guests. And no, I’m not looking for a hookup, k thnx bai.
I’m not even really actively looking to date. If I find a connection with someone and it’s a good fit and we enjoy each other, great. If not, I’m not all that invested. And if a good thing happens, I feel like I’m ready to be a part of it, but there’s no rush. And that’s okay!
Anyway, yeah, one year also marks the time I’ve been living with mom and her boyfriend. One year of cleaning, purging, and organizing a mess that’s mostly not mine. I’ve made a lot of progress, but I’m looking forward to the day I’m not living here any longer.
Baby steps though. Baby steps.