I haven’t written anything in a long time.
When I started this blog, I hadn’t even turned 40 yet and now, I’ll be 42 this summer.
This blog started out to be a place for me to vent about dating disasters, get confirmation from other women that I wasn’t crazy and that there were a lot of bad eggs out there.
Writing clears my head. It gets rid of the anxieties in my head and relieves the pressure of thoughts building in my head.
I miss it.
Just because I’m not single anymore, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep writing, when needed. For support. For joy. To feel better.
E and I have been living together for a little over a year now.
It hasn’t been easy. It’s been a really big adjustment for me.
I went from living alone for the first time in my life and doing what I wanted, to living with a man. A man who has different smells than I do. A man who has different eating habits than I do. A man who has different sleeping habits than I do. I had to make room in my closet. I had to make room in my dresser. I had to make a copy of my house key.
He leaves his keys and wallet and sunglasses, right in the middle of the kitchen island. He doesn’t do the dishes as often as he cooks. He doesn’t replace the trash bag in the kitchen. He doesn’t make the bed, after the sheets have been washed.
It’s been a little scary. I’ve gotten a little angry. I feel a little smothered sometimes.
But here’s the thing…HE takes the trash out. Always. HE goes grocery shopping and cooks me dinner. HE gets up early on his days off to make my coffee and get my lunch together for me. HE has gone to Ulta to buy the new make-up pallet I mentioned I would like to have.
He’s a good man.
He’s not perfect. He drives me batty.
But he loves me. All of me. All the time.
When I was sick and all I was craving was bacon, he fried me up bacon, for three nights in a row. YES…THREE nights in a ROW. (Go ahead and judge)
I’m fortunate to have him.
I’ve stopped writing on here because I didn’t think it mattered anymore. I stopped writing because who in their right mind wants to read about this? Well, maybe some people do. Maybe some women are in their 40’s and have given up hope. Maybe I’ll give them hope. Maybe some people want to read this and laugh because my life is boring. Maybe no one will read this at all.
But I do know that writing clears my head. It takes away my anxiety and makes me happy.
So here I am.