[Ha, ha, ha, yeah right. But I have to admit, for a while there, he gave my "I'm staying single for the rest of my life" mindset a run for a money.]
Tall, blonde, blue eyed, mid to late 30's, intelligent, strikingly handsome and charming. Alarmingly charming. And English. D*mmit.
Flash back to last night: I was driving home after a long day of errands and appointments. It was hot. I was tired. My mind started to drift as it tends to do when I've got nothing in particular to think about. For some reason, the thought crossed my mind that when I was younger (teens through my late 20's) I tended to be attracted to blondes. The blonde haired, blue eyed variety specifically. As I got older, however (thirties to whenever it was that I stopped dating) my taste shifted to brunettes, and just for those few fleeting seconds, I wondered why.
"Blondes are fun, but they also seem a little more reckless. They're trouble with a Capital T", I surmised.
Pfaff! What nonsense. I've had just as much trouble with brunette men as I have with blonde ones. But for whatever reason, I just stopped being as attracted to blondes.
Until today.
Oh. My. Gosh.
You could have pushed me over with a feather. It was almost embarrassing.
Things got even more interesting when while in the midst of some small talk, he said that his marriage of 10 years dissolved because his wife ran off and left him for a TV evangelist a few months ago. And the divorce just became final last week. ::gasp::
[Whoah, Nikki! Behave yourself. You're at work. Must be professional. Remember: this is business. But D*mn he's hot. And nice. And English.]
"I'm done with the short fat ones. Too much trouble" he muttered under his breath. "Now, it's tall black ones for me", he added with a mischievous smile."
And then . . ."blah, blah, blah. . . my new Jamaican girlfriend . . ."
** POP **
Oh well. It was fun to dream for those fleeting 30 minutes or so.
But what the heck was THAT all about??? What was the universe trying to tell me? That I'm not as interested in being unattached as I believe I am? But I LIKE being single. I really do! There's no stress, I can do what I want when I want, and I don't have to worry about if I'm being played. This works for me. Doesn't it?
Well, doesn't it? [It sure feels like it does.]
Could it be that all this time, it's just my mind's way of keeping me from being hurt again?
Hmmm.
But even so, what would I have to offer? In short: nothing. I'm now very selfish about the precious bit of free time I have, and there's no way that I'm going to bend over backwards to accomodate the needs of a significant other. Those days are over. If it doesn't suit me, I'm not doing it. Period. On top of that, the little bit of physical appeal I used to have is loooooong gone. I put on a lot of weight, and I gave up on looking nice a few years ago. Now I'm strictly wash and wear. Makeup? Ha! No way. Nice clothes? What are those? I went from skirts and dresses to floppy, oversized t-shirts and medical scrubs. And my attitude is:don't even think about asking me out on a date. (Not that anyone would anyway.)
So as I said, it was fun to daydream for that short period of time this afternoon, but the reality is, even if he was interested (which of course, he wasn't), I wouldn't have known what to do about it anyway. Regardless, it was a big surprise to find out that if the right guy came along, I might actually be persuaded to try my hand at dating just one more time.
But for now, it's back to my current life. My comfortable life. The life I feel safe and happy with.
Just thought I'd share. <Ahref="http://edit.journals.aol.com/_do/<!--WEBBOT%20bot=" -- ALT="Site Meter"startspan HTMLMarkup?>" target=_top> var site="SM1GUIDE" 
No comments:
Post a Comment