After nearly a decade of using personal pronouns like "us" or "we," it's no secret now that I find myself newly single in New York City at 32 years old. Ten whole years have passed since my last first date (or any other dating firsts for that matter...talk about awkward). I've also spent ten full years growing into the woman I am now, a woman who barely resembles the single 22-year-old girl who was completely unsure of who she was, what she was worth, or how she wanted to be treated, and to be perfectly clear before I get started, this is not an ex bash...I brought that shit in with me. And so, as you can imagine, a lot has changed in that time...and yet it comes as no surprise that the universe would like to test that theory...
My first date in the city a couple of months ago closely resembled the type of guy I would have dated in high school...the good-looking athletic type, a real charmer when it counted...and an entirely different person when no one else was watching.
After date one, a few red flags, and three too many margaritas, my internal firewall took over. I sent him a farewell text on my long walk alone to the Subway,
(Carrie Bradshaw would have been so proud)
But my gut instinct was second-guessed by the sober light of the next day as I quickly sent him a few follow-up texts. Texts that led to a very long, very confused conversation...and then to the dreaded C word...
If I'm being truthful, I used it first myself. I mean, I looked crazy all flip-flopping around like a fish, and without the margarita's I felt crazy too. Our text conversation soon spiraled into a full-on gravel-fest on my part...me apologizing as he milked the situation...if you'd of handed me a cheerleading uniform and an empty bucket proudly labeled: Donielle's Dignity & Self Respect, I would have been right back in high school with a big, fat F on my report card...
A few weeks passed, and because I practice instant forgiveness for my own sanity, I had all but forgotten about the guy until one night when I heard that familiar ding from my iPhone, with a "Hey crazy," popping up in my text messages. He was back. Wait, what? I didn't scare him off?
Because I hadn't had a chance at an in-person redemption, I obliged the "crazy" greeting and let it slide. Cute. After all, my track record wasn't all that becoming of me. But it wasn't until our second-chance (completely sober) encounter that I remembered exactly why drunk Donielle fired off that text in the first place. It was because he earned it. And even after devouring too many of the worlds tastiest adult beverages, I knew exactly what I wanted, expected, and deserved...and he was simply not it.
So ladies, why do we second-guess the gut? Because it's never wrong. And scientifically speaking, it's the only place within us that makes decisions with ease (just ask Simon Sinek, he's done far more research than I). Instead, we compromise, chase, and fight for people who we already instinctively know won't ever work in our lives. Doesn't that feel wonderful AF? God forbid it actually works out longterm. My friends, I'm going to call it like it is, that's fear...at it's finest.
And you know me and fear.
You are not crazy. That bears repeating. You are NOT crazy. You have never been crazy. You simply forgot to trust yourself and the cosmic plan for your life. And now that you know...girlfriend, you don't have to make that mistake ever again. So there.
P.S. If you're unsure of what you want in a partner, start now by crafting a list and reading that shit to yourself on the daily. What you focus on you find, and in my limited experience back on the dating scene, it makes it much easier to let go of who you know doesn't make the cut when you've got it written down on paper.