I never expected this blog to last as long as it did. For those who have not read for the last three years (YIKES!), my dating life began as a bet. A bet, you ask wide-eyed? Yes, a bet. And I didn’t even admit that until the year was almost over…read on…
I didn’t have a great marriage. Far from it. After I grew steel ovaries, I finally walked away. By far, the hardest decision I ever made, but also the best decision I ever made. I took a lot of time to be alone. I fudged timelines in this blog to keep any suspicion of off me, but I was alone for quite some time. Almost a year. I LOVED IT. I had to learn how to make decisions on my own, how to be alone, how to live alone. How to be scared alone, lonely alone, cry alone. How to be happy alone, joyful alone, elated alone. I had to figure out who I was, and who I wanted to be. I took joy in picking out a pink couch for my living room! I felt the frustration when I had problems I should have been able to solve on my own. Am I painting the picture I want you to see? I had to learn how to LIVE.
After many hours of therapy, of ups and downs, of trials and tribulations, I finally made it to a great place. Am I perfect? Nope. Neither are you. Will I continue to learn? Absolutely. I still attend a weekly group for domestic abuse. I continue to bring something home from that class EVERY WEEK. And I will continue to go for the forseeable future. It continues to help mold me into the person I wish to be.
So I reached a happy place. I was content with where I was in life. I was in love with the sassy woman I had become. I was confident, and I was venturing out more and more.
What I found was this: as my confidence and self-esteem grew, I became more attractive to the opposite sex. It didn’t matter if I was dressed to the nines, or if I was grunging in jeans and an old t-shirt. I was getting asked out on dates, all of which I turned down. My friend Sunday (whom, coincidentally I’m no longer friends with) issued a challenge.
How are you going to know what kind of man you want if you don’t date?
Interesting. How was I going to know? I knew what I DIDN’T want. We all know what we don’t want, especially after bad relationships.
So I issue to you this challenge. For one year, you cannot turn down a date. You have to go out with any guy who asks. What better way to learn about dating?
ONE YEAR? A whole 365 days? Is she crazy?!? I asked her why the hell I would agree to that.
Because I don’t think you will actually do it.
That sealed it. Tell me I can’t do something, and it gives me all the motivation I need to prove that person wrong. We went over tips and rules for my safety. Obviously if some 6’10 dude with blood splatter on an axe asks me for a date, I am allowed to say no. Basically, I had to give every guy (minus the Misery guy) a chance. I also had to make myself available. Internet dating, going out, blind dates, etc. Before I knew it, I was entered into an agreement I really wasn’t sure I wanted. And it didn’t take long to begin.
You all have read the by-products of that agreement. As I stated before, I messed with the timeline so I couldn’t be pinpointed. I wrote about some of the more interesting dates (8 kids, anyone?), the scary dates (like when I was almost date-raped), and the two failed relationships I should have NEVER gotten myself into (just click on the Perfect and Mr. Hottie tags for all of that drama *eye-roll*). I wrote about getting stood-up repeatedly, and about my sexual adventures. I wrote about my hopes, fears, wants and desires. I really used this blog as an outlet for all things Esme.
The year of yes came and went. What i expected to get out of it I wasn’t sure. Even now, I am not sure what I expected to get out of it! But I did learn, and I learned a lot. I learned how to keep myself safe. I learned that there are some bad people out there, but there are also some pretty great ones. I made new friends and gained a few stalkers. I learned more of what I DIDN’T want, but still couldn’t tell you what I DID want. I think after all of that, I could turn first-time dating into a business. I even started to follow a set of rules I made for myself, which has its own page on this blog.
I wish I wouldv’e counted how many first dates I had. I wrote about a lot, but not all. Some were completely forgettable, not worth the words on this page (and they are free). I am glad I have this blog as a reference. Some of what I’ve written about I forget!
After the year was up, I continued to date, however I became a lot more selective. Did my ‘selection’ work? Nope. I was still surrounded by douchebags, as you all know.
So fast forward these three years to present day. I’m sitting here writing this entry as a completely different person than when I started this blog. I haven’t lost my sassy self. I haven’t lost my confidence or my moxie. But what I gained was love.
That’s right, this Esme is wonderfully, irrevocably, incredibly in love.
And not only am I in love, I am 100% loved in return.
I’ve known for sometime I was in love. I’ve written about it. Loverboy has told me several times that he loves me. Did I believe him when he said that? Sure I did. But I didn’t let myself feel that love, or enjoy that love. I expected it to be taken away.
Only lately have I learned how to be loved. How it feels to have unconditional acceptance. And it’s pretty fucking amazing.
Both of our friends and family remark on how much happier we seem. No matter how bad my day is, I revel in the fact I will get to talk to and see Loverboy. I know his voice and his presence will calm me. He tells me often that his workday is better knowing he will get to see me at the end of it.
I know it all sounds so…gaggy. Even I never thought I would meet someone I would WANT to see regularly. But now, I am exactly where I want to be.
So why am I telling you all of this?
I have sat in front of my computer several times this last month. I open up the ‘new post’ tab, and I stare at the blank white canvas where my words are supposed to go. Do I write about the Jason Bourne marathon we just had? How about the time he kicked my ass on Call of Duty? Do I tell you of the night we cuddled during the thunderstorm and talked of simple things? Or the time we had a few beers and talked about what we were like in high school? (For the record, I would have NEVER talked to someone like him in high school, but I wouldv’e lusted from a distance. I got me a true bad boy ;))
That’s when it hit me-I am boring. We are boring. We are one of those boring couples I have always wanted to be!!
We spend our evenings playing with children, then sitting on the couch watching Spongebob while he has his arm around me. We go to bed have mind-blowing sex, sleep, then have morning sex. He goes to work, I go home and do whatever (still off on work comp). Then we do it all over again. We sometimes go out. We sometimes fight. But most of all, I just really enjoy those quiet nights at his place.
I craved this normalcy for a very long time. I always wanted normal. I know normal is perceived as boring, but not in my world. I never cuddled on the couch and watched TV in my marriage. I never snuggled during a thunderstorm and talked. I never had my vision of what a relationship is.
And now I do.
So where do I go from here? I have no crystal ball to see what my future with Loverboy will be like. We could break up tomorrow (with me being completely devastated), or we could move in together and eventually get married. The thought of the latter doesn’t bother me anymore (before I would break out in hives with the thought of marriage).
The future of this blog? I don’t know that either. I could complain about my shoulder and how I probably won’t be able to medic again. I can bitch about my ex-husband. I could regale you with stories of my awesomely boring evenings with Loverboy. I could write about how, even after all these months, I am still trying to figure out what a partnership is all about-since I have never had one before. This started out as a dating blog, and it seems wrong to make it about anything else. Even though I am extremely happy with “boring’ in my relationship, the last thing I want to do is bore my readers.
So I am going to leave it up to you all (if you are indeed still reading this very long post). I love to write and share. But when it comes to Love, Esme, I am at a loss of what to do. Comments and suggestions are most welcome.
And, as always,