Line Up

The prospect of dating post-divorce seemed exciting. Much more so than staying home and binge-watching Netflix shows. My capacity to be present with men on dates really surprised me. I thought it would be hard, that it would take time to get back into the swing of things.

But instead, I found that it still comes naturally to smile, to flirt, and bat my eyelashes at precisely the right moment.

I flow, yet I’m reserved. I know what to avoid, I know how to make them feel special.

It’s easier than I thought. All that worrying for nothing. I thought it would be more awkward, but it’s not. Not yet anyways.

The weird parts are trying to get through it when my interest has flown the coop. Then deflect what comes next.

I make mental lists during our time. Too this, too that, and eww, eww, eww. I focus on the opportunity to learn, to practice. Every one who isn’t the one is practice for what’s to come

I know the effect I have on them. I can see it. I can feel it, Then I have to wait to tell whether the other brain is going to engage.

And is that enough to engage me, sustain my interest.

So far, the answer is a big fat resounding “no.”

Too easy, not fulfilling though. So, next…!

I walk into a bar and turn every head. It’s just what happens. It’s out of curiosity, I realize because of my height. But I have not done myself justice in manifesting this power to my benefit. In the past I’ve just shied away from it instead. I hate being the center of attention. No more.

I walked into the bar that night.

I had my eyes set on someone specific.

We sat near him and his friends, on empty bar stools. He seemed a little young, but did it really matter, it was just one night of fun to be had.

Strategic leg crossing, in my pretty pink dress, hair tossed, I cast large smiles beyond his glance.

I imagine the body language I gave off was my most powerful allure that night.

Thank you, Will for making me feel like a teenager again. Thank you for being shocked that I was older than you, for the look of disbelief you gave me when I told you I had a child.

Thank you for being a good kisser, as it’s been a long time since I made out with a stranger at a bar.

Most of all, since I am new to this world of dating, thank you for teaching me to never pick up my phone at 1am when some guy I just met at a bar, calls 😉

Lost Myself

measureI’ve lost myself along the way.

I find myself wrapped up in bad habits. I know better, yet I persist.

Do I need to go to church?

I know I need to go to the gym.

I hate the way my body feels. I miss feeling like myself, thin and fit. I miss the carefree feeling of putting on clothes that hang, and how that made it feel easier to just go with the flow, with a carefree shrug of my bare midriff peeking out. I miss not tensing up at the slight hover of his hand over my hip.

I tell myself to stop. But I don’t. There’s no one here to notice anyway. That shouldn’t matter, but maybe it does.

How do I get back there, back to myself, the person I used to be, in that body of mine I no longer have?

Or, how do I move forward to the next version of myself? I don’t like the current iteration.