In no way do I intend to sound bitter. I love men as much as any woman. But I was also determined. I wanted to find my way back to me , so I plunged headlong into the world of singledom, and I embraced my newly-found relationship status with all the exuberance I could muster.
Was it hard? But as the months ticked by, I grew comfortable in my newly single skin. We went to a cozy wine bar for our first date and nabbed a spot on a comfy couch in the corner where we could talk and flirt and eventually kiss over a bottle of Zin without much attention or distraction. Sparks flew immediately.
Our second date took us on a beautiful waterfall hike in Marin county, then back to his house where he whipped us up a spread of bread and cheeses, guacamole, watermelon radishes and Chinese chicken salad. And did I mention he has a wine collection of about bottles? Be still my heart. On our third date, we met at a bar halfway between our homes and simply talked and kissed and talked and hugged and laughed and talked some more.
That was just last Thursday. It was simple, yet wonderful. Easy, yet emotional. In short, it was perfect. And we talked about the future β in hypothetical terms, maybe, but still. Who would you choose? Silly, but you get the point. Or next May. That made my comfortably single self sit up and freak the hell out. Via texts, no less. Real mature, Sienna. Very much. Feeling vulnerable? Taking risks? The pain of a break-up?
The emotional energy required for a romantic partner? But in all honesty, I feel like a scared little girl. But I hope to see you again. I was looking forward to a romantic evening with you in Santa Cruz. And winning. I was embarrassed. Nobody told me that once I arrived here, there would still be shit to figure out on the other side. Stay tuned. I wrote about him in my last post. This guy was a total packageβsmart, successful, funny, confident, fun, sexy.
