Falling in Love (or How I know I am a genius) (part 1)

A year ago I was just starting to date someone I met from OkCupid. It was my first attempt at dating in over 14 months. If you don’t already know, I had one of those breakups that rips your chest open, grips your heart, and chokes the life from it. But, here’s the thing, it wasn’t the first breakup like that that I had ever had. It was the 3rd or 4th.

I did the absolutely wrong, long-term, bad for me relationship over and over and over.

Most of the times, as those bad relationship started, I knew they were totally wrong for me. I justified it in whatever ways I needed to and stayed in them for 1 or more years. Yeah, I did that. It was always easier to focus my energy on a relationship that needed constant work than on any other areas of my life. That’s not to say these guys were jerks, or assholes, or dummies. Nope, not ALL of them, some of them were kind, giving, fun to be around, sexy (and nothing else), etc. But were they the right match for me? Did they want to travel the world? Did they not want kids? Did they understand the stress of owning your own business and unsteady paycheck or have the ability to empathize with it? Nope. We had major differences, always.

After the last breakup. I decided to cut it all out. To stop the pattern by just stopping. No dating. No nothing. The pattern couldn’t repeat if I didn’t welcome anyone into my life in a romantic way. I was also so depleted from bad relationship after bad relationship. I couldn’t imagine giving anything to anyone else. A 14 month solo status ensued.

‘Till October of 2014 when I joined OkCupid. I was bombarded with the wrong men, over and over and over again. This time though, I was confident in what I wanted and what I wouldn’t waste my time with. I finally agreed to go out with someone that didn’t give me the heebie-jeebies. He was a professional, smart, good looking, kind, generous and funny. He had a very calm demeanor, almost too calm, but I looked past that as we began dating. If that was the worst of it, I could handle it.

We had a nice time going out to dinners, talking about family, getting to know one another. Boy, was he calm. So calm. Nothing seemed to really excite him too much one way or the other. I couldn’t tell you what he was passionate about. Me, on the other hand, get me talking about improv, traveling, my favorite authors, my incredible business partner, etc and the pitch of my voice changes, my palms sweat. I get excited. I am passionate.

So, after several dinners and texting and hanging out with each others friends, we made plans for “Netflix and chill” at his place. I was looking forward to it. A lot. It had been 14 months after all. *Exhale* As “Netflix and chill” day approached I realized, Dammit! I signed up to do 2 back to back improv workshops earlier in the day. I wouldn’t have time after the workshops to go home and get ready before our dinner reservations.

Arrgh. The day of I took a long shower. I waxed and prepped and perfumed. I packed a small bag of “fix ’em ups” to bring with me to the workshops so I could freshen up when they were over. It included makeup, a hair brush, and a dainty, lacey, matching bra and panty set to put on. Hubba Hubba.  I also brought a fly swatter & fan, so I could spend some private time in the bathroom knocking the dust from my vagina before I saw him.

I headed to the workshops, full of excitement and anticipation for what awaited me later that night.

Part 2 over here