Skip to main content

Make a choice

I'm moving in with Mike in less than a week.  Changing my address and my life, again.

Fast.  yes. Why?  Because i'm pregnant.

No, because I WANT to, because there is no reason NOT to (and i have dug deep to find just one reason).

Am i giving up a dream of owning my own home?  No.  I am moving in with the man i want to be with into his home, yes.  Is it possible that it won't work?  yes.  Anything is possible - I know that first hand.   I know how to move like a champ now. Does that scare me?  Hell no.

What scared me was wondering if I would ever want to share my life with someone again.  What scared me was wondering if a part of me had died out of disappointment and disillusionment .  What scared me was thinking i would never trust again, never feel that feeling of longing to be with that one man, and the happiness that fills me when I am.  What scared me was the idea of living alone with a bunch of animals actually seemed to be the smart thing to do in the name of self preservation.

What scared me was feeling like i would always be too scared.  Too hard.  Too dead inside.  THAT scared me.

Do i need a man?  No.  Obviously I don't.  Do i need one?  No.  They are more work than easy.  Do I want one?  No.  I want the right one.

And i found him.

So.  Wish me happiness and celebrate with me my ability to make a choice.  I know this is fast, I know it may seem reckless, but for fucks sake all my being careful in the past never made me any less vulnerable to pain, hurt and disappointment.   I've never been more sure.  Of myself, of him, of this choice that we have made together.

That's all that should matter.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Let's talk about Mr. Racecar

 I admit it.  I am a little bit excited about meeting Mr. Racecar.   He's younger- 53 He's taller, and bigger than me He has tats, bald head and long beard He builds cars/trucks and drag races - own his shop which is attached to his home.  ONE is a Camaro.  It sounds NASTY. He lives an hour away Now......here's what happens in my head:  What the hell could this man possibly see in me?  Why would he want to meet me?  He- owns a Harley but hasn't ridden it in a few years due to a car accident that left him unable to walk again until recently. He is a typical male in that some of his talk tries to lead me down the "lets talk about sex, baby, lets talk about you and me" side of things, which I have successfully diverted without him losing interest. I'm looking to date, to find the man I want to have a relationship with, not a situationship. And then I had to explain what a situationship is because he has only just started dating again, and he is ...

I love ChatGPT

 I am extremely transparent with my emotions because i do not have the ability to NOT be.  My only option when i'm having any feelings is to talk in a very low, slow, monotone voice and keep my face as blank as i possibly can. Unless they mean something to me. Unless i care about them and how they treat me.  So while i'm perfectly okay with never seeing or hearing from Mr. Cigar again, in light of his true self unveiling, I am overthinking my expression of emotions to him.   I took this little conversation and put it into ChatGPT with no questions or directions and this is what i got back: This exchange captures a painful and emotionally charged moment. Your initial message was heartfelt, vulnerable, and expressed a genuine desire for connection and acknowledgment. His response, while polite on the surface, carried a sharp undercurrent of blame and finality—deflecting accountability and subtly rewriting the narrative as your fault. Ending it with “safe travels ...

I danced.

 This past Saturday night i revisited what it felt like to be the zero fucks ME.   I had talked myself out of going out that night.  I dragged my ass around the house and thought of every reason to text my girlfriend an excuse about why i wasn't going out. I had many valid reasons.  Putting on real clothes, trying to make myself attractive, going somewhere i've never been all by myself to walk up to a man i've been talking to, but haven't ever met face to face.   Okay, Mb.  Just put on your sassy pants and go do it.  Nothing to lose, everything to gain.   But PJs.   No.   On my way I get a text from my gf, she's running late.  When i get to the venue I ask her "how late" and she says about 1/2 an hour. She's picking up our other 2 girlfriends. Do i sit out here in the car for half an hour like a baby when his gig starts in half hour, or do i go inside by myself (getting used to that) and find him, say hello ...