Synthesis Of Apprehension

It doesn’t matter how many dates I go on, how many people I meet, how wonderful they all are; I still come home every night hoping you’re at my doorstep.

I’ve been thinking lately. About the heart. About loving. It’s been so long.

All these dates I’ve been on have been entertaining, and nice enough, but nothing… unexpectedly wonderful. And while most people would be discouraged by a bunch of mediocre evenings with seemingly suitable candidates, I’m actually more excited to continue.

Six years. It’s been about six years since I’ve fallen in love. New, ridiculous, heart-aching love. Some of you know where my heart’s been since, but it doesn’t matter. Apparently six years is long enough, and I’m ready for that new love again.

I’ve spent the past few years pushing men away. Dating is lovely, but no smothering, please. No labeling. No commitment. “I don’t have time”. But I do, now. Or, I feel as though I’d be willing to make time for someone now if it means I get to feel like that again. I miss waking up next to someone. I miss getting excited about stupid little texts or calls. I miss having someone to share with: exciting news, a beautiful movie, a stupid joke, a kiss, a night, an adventure, a glance, a life. I love sharing when I know someone’s on the same page, sharing with me, too. I miss that. I want to cook for someone again. Sing to them. Make stupid little lovey notes and gifts.

Maybe it’s the time of year. I’m cold, and my dog doesn’t cuddle, you know? But I think it’s more than that. I’ve spent years cutting strings and letting go. I think it’s working, and I’m in control. We’ll see.

It’s a nice feeling, knowing you’re ready to jump again. Just gotta find the right cliff, the right pool, the right hand to hold, while they jump with me. That’s the easy part, right? No? Well, the search is fun, and I’m never opposed to a few free drinks and dinners during the journey.

Here’s hoping someone gets my heartbeat racing again.