During my weekend of darkness a few weeks ago, I decided to torture myself a bit and watch the first Sex and the City movie.
The reason why I say it’s torture is because I watched that film multiple times after the ending of my engagement because I really identified with Carrie’s pain of being jilted at the altar. Now, we didn’t make it that far, but plans were rolling along, I had picked my dress and was about to start the alterations, and I had the shoes, and my friends started planning parties for me. The movie was not only torturous because it reminded me of the funk I had to pull myself out of, but the happy ending was also difficult because I couldn’t see my own happy ending anywhere in sight.
She ended up with Mr. Big anyway. Big, like my ex is an extremely messed up person, and like Carrie, I’ve vacillated back and forth with the hope that one day he’d get it together and give me the love I deserve, with feelings of never again and a nagging mistrust.
I’ve started to notice that even though from this time last year, on, I had been really trying to give various men a chance, deep down I knew they weren’t it. I’d even say it. He ain’t it. But I still forged through, because I needed practice in reintroducing myself to giving and sharing and just being nice to a man again and meaning it.
I had to return to the crux of who I am. If I care about you, I really, really care about you. I can’t love you half way. It’s not in my nature.
There are moments when you do something and you realize a year or two years ago you weren’t in a place to do so. When my wedding plans fell apart, I couldn’t watch anything or read anything about weddings. The other day, I found myself liking wedding photos or videos of proposals again.
I didn’t feel some kind of way about it or feel sadness. I was happy for strangers again and I could just enjoy the photos and videos for being lovely again. I’m not the single girl who build a pinterest board for her dream wedding, but I can totally appreciate beautiful brides and gorgeous locales. I’m happy for other people again!
I feel like that’s a sign that the thaw is happening.
I’m looking forward to spending time with Renaissance. I enjoy cooking for him and him enjoying my food. I want to cook more and find recipes to feed him. I want to dress up and slay him. I want to snuggle. I want to feel like a girly, girl around this guy. Lord. I have not said that he is not it, and I won’t say he’s it either. But I haven’t said he’s not it.
That’s a big deal. He may have a chance. He may actually have a chance.
Am I guarded? Hell yes. Renaissance has called me out on it and I don’t mind. It’s honest and I’m doing what is comfortable for me right now. I like the fact that he doesn’t seem to mind and that he’s willing to coax me out of the cave and is trying to apply some heat to the ice.
The other men I’ve dated recently haven’t given me such a warm feeling. Sure, they wanted sex, but the feeling was not warm and personal.
It seems like the thaw is taking place and I won’t fight it.
Have you ever been heartbroken and woke up one day and noticed the things that used to make you sad don’t make you sad anymore? Were you surprised to discover that you didn’t hurt as much as you did before?