You’re not ready if you’re comparing him to your ex

4 months post breakup, and I’ve found the secret to evaluating whether or not you are ready to date again.

*DISCLAIMER: Post exodus from my 2 and half year relationship, I second guessed if I’ll ever trust my brain to make a right decision again. The relationship wasn’t horrible, my ex wasn’t a piece of dirt, and the breakup rated rather high in the amicable category. Yet still, it was 2.5 years of my life and there were major phases when I was unhappy. Therefore, the looming question stands:  if I gravitate towards a certain type and this is what I am attracted to, doesn’t that just mean I’ll be dating the same person over and over again?

Many people think it’ll be hard to meet new people or even find someone you like. I made that mistake of semi starting to crush on someone without realizing until it was too late that his personality, though coupled with some differences, were all red flags I had for my ex.

I pondered some more and felt that if these were the issues I couldn’t fix with my previous significant other, what confidence would I have that this man would be any different?

Dating someone similar to your ex is like being given the forbidden apple. It looks tasty, new, crisp on the outside with a hint of familiarity as though you know exactly how sweet and delicious it will be. However, would you want to go down the same road and bite into an apple knowing it’s poisonous for you?

More and more I thought, I came to the conclusion I wasn’t ready to date quite yet. I saw my ex in him no matter what. Then I started fantasizing what ifs before anything even started. In my silly imaginations, I already fought with this new guy exactly how I fought with my ex. I grew cognizant that this unhealthy comparison meant I just wasn’t ready. I needed more time to heal, and not to jump on the first thing that filled a void I had.

So, doctor’s orders: stay away from the apple. You’re not quite ready if these new prospects are just fillers for your ex.

 

 

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The kind of person you need to be with

I can be a carefree child.

A heartbroken, doe-eyed teenager.

A jaded successful professional.

With you I’m 6 and running wild with inappropriate jokes, giggling til my abs hurt and cheeks burn.

With you I’m 15 and crying about why boys don’t value my attention, listening to your wisdom til my eyes dry and frown wavers.

With you I’m 29 and distilling what it takes to break the glass ceiling, discussing goals for the future til we gulp down single malt misery that we’re losing time as it catches up faster and faster year over year.

With you I’m 6, 15, and 29.

With you I am every age of myself and every facade of who I am. You’ve peeled every layer, knocked down the sturdiest walls, and embraced every molecule that is my being.

With you is who I choose to turn 72 with. This is where I want to be, because only with you am I all these ages and more.

When it smells like Autumn…

Lorelai Gilmore had a special gift. As soon as she smelled snow, her and her daughter Rory Gilmore would look up at the sky and almost within that instant as they peered above, snow would sift down dusting their coats and scarves.

That icon from Gilmore Girls transcended through the seasons as a bookmark if you will, that set her personality apart from others.

Lorelai is the rambunctious happy go lucky character that’s independent and fierce. I remember desiring someone like that to be in my life.

Recently, the seasons gradually changed from summer to fall and though LA still has the warm atmosphere floating around, I started to smell autumn.

It’s truly a blissful time of year and quite frankly, my favorite season.

  1. The air is cooler granting a wardrobe overhaul with cute hats, scarves and of course, boots.
  2. The color palette switches from glittering yellows and beachy blues to a warm brown and vibrant orange.
  3. Halloween decorations have kicked off in retail reminding us that soon enough Holiday Seasons is right around the corner.
  4. Cuddle weather with hot cocoa and thin mints to complement the sweetness
  5. My famous spiked apple cider to soothe our bones when it gets too chilly
  6. The nights are spent by candlelight indoors reading for the introverts
  7. and my absolute favorite reason: love. I feel an overwhelming aura of love during autumn. Maybe because my spirits are lifted from the season, but it just feels amazing.

When next year’s fall rolls around, do you think you’ll smell autumn?

This is what falling for you feels like

My heart’s never pounded so fast,

nor has it ever felt this empty.

My tongue’s never tasted so dry,

nor has it been so thirsty for another.

My head’s never been so tormented,

nor have I ever thought I’d be so happy with being so smitten.

This conundrum I have is both liberating and suffocating.

This is how I endure puppy love.

The silly moments where I am lost in lust

but found in love.

 

“but some part of it will always not feel right”

I was trying to explain to her what she could not grasp.

I wasn’t unhappy in my relationship by any means, maybe just stuck in a conundrum.

“It’s like there’s a bottle and a cap, and no matter how I try to screw on the cap, it doesn’t seem to fit perfectly –

It still functions as a bottle in that the cap screws on and nothing will spill out nor would anything fall in. The bottle still works, but some part of it will always not feel right.”

That was the best way for me to explain my conundrum.

PRICK

He leaves a thorn in my sides as each passing day goes by that we are together.

Toxic relationships grow and grow. The thorns prick my skin one by one; day by day until there’s no surface left to puncture me. He’s taken all of me.

So when the time finally comes, and I’ve mustered enough bravery to leave and let it all go, it takes one day at a time to pluck out each thorn he’s left in me.

The recovery is painful, they say. The recovery is hard.

And as each day I pull with might, I feel the twinge of throbbing memories being yanked out. The petals glisten and cheer.

The buds start to say, it’s one step closer to leaving it behind. Thorns no longer impaling my emptiness but piling up on the ground where I left the rest of that darkness.

 

What If It’s Not For Me?

Two years ago, I went to this magical made into reality wedding in Upstate New York. It was as though the entire place was plucked out of a Pinterest board.

The setting: acres and acres of hidden beauty somewhere in the estates with cottages and housing for all the guests. The reception was held inside a barn with a live band and lights strung from high ceilings. Though it was a rainy day, the barn was lit up as if fireflies were dancing alongside each of us celebrating the newlyweds.

This was happily ever after.

This was a fairy tale coming true right before my very eyes.

The atmosphere flooded with love as every patron and family member smiled, danced and drank in the festivities.

I remember glancing past my scenery hoping one day, I would wake up and slip into a gown on my special day, almost as unimaginably wonderful as that weekend I had spent.

Today, a friend sent me a wedding video that collected every memorable moment from a newlywed’s wedding day.

As the music chimed and the carefully stitched scenes flowed from the bride getting ready to the groom awaiting her in the church, I felt disgust filling up from my toes to my stomach as it churned, churned, churned.

The frames sailed by on the computer screen as my stomach felt waves of uncomfort. I wanted to vomit at my desk. Heaving with dizziness, instantly I stopped the video and turned away.

Anxiety pricked my head with thoughts.

“What if this isn’t for me?? How could watching this couple get married make me want to regurgitate everything I had that day? Where’s the nausea rising from?”

In that moment, I felt terrified of marriage. Not for the lack of commitment but fear of being so utterly happy that it could be stripped away any second.

Truth is, I’m afraid of being happy. The opportunity cost of it is pain, and sure enough, it’ll come full circle.  Because after all to have something ignites the beginning of its loss.