There. I said it. I am a grown-ass, 27-year-old woman who is scared of being alone. Something I truly didn’t realize until Mr. B skipped into (and subsequently out of) my life.
For the past decade, I have methodically steamrolled from one relationship into the next.
Oh, shit ain’t working with Mr. Right Now? That’s cool, Mr. Coming Right Up is looking pretty good…
Yes, I am that girl. I was that girl. Every time I ended a relationship, I already had the next eligible bachelor lined up. I’ve never actually dealt with the feelings associated with a breakup.
I suppose you could say my method for getting over someone, was getting under someone else (sorry, Mom!).
This is the first time in a decade there is no tall, dark and handsome distraction waiting for me; the first time in a decade where I refuse to resort to this destructive (albeit very comforting) pattern.
I need to make a real change in my life and behaviour. I refuse to drag another unsuspecting human being into this angsty, Mr. B-hating, wine-chugging, ramen-noodle eating phase of my existence. I am not in any shape to: a) attract the right guy; and b) be a good partner to anyone.
So here I am, raising my glass of merlot, to being alone! (Someone please take me out of my misery if I ever order a Snuggie!)
Current Status: listening to Single Ladies / googling micro pigs in rainboots / loading up on ramen