I haven’t been here in almost two years.  I remember the last time.  I was all gung-ho and sure I was the next Glennon.  If only I start, my healing and rise will be just around the corner tomorrow.  I don’t remember writing that first post.  I don’t remember what happened next or why I didn’t come back.  I know it’s another man that brought me back.

Let’s call the current man The Meat Cowboy.  His smile….OMG his smile.  He’s not lacking for looks and occasional charm.  He can also cook like no one I’ve known.  He’s from Texas and he knows his way around a BBQ pit and smoker.  Honesty?  Transparency?  Emotional Intelligence?  Adulting?  Self-awareness?  I mean…these are the things he needs a little help with.  Yesterday he told me I was sneaky and it drives him nuts.  The thing is I’m not sneaky at all.  What I am is paying attention.  It stems from the first time I dated him and I found something weird on his kitchen table after a weekend away….the weird thing was lube.  Now in round two he disappears for periods of time and gets texts with red heart emojis while sitting next to me.  There are some good things about him too but those are beside the point.

I want to tell MC (Meat Cowboy) about all my history and other the mother fuckers before him.  The ones I trusted, the ones I’ve felt sorry for, the ones I thought I was better than.  I want to tell him all the reasons I don’t trust people, especially men, because of previous deception – the one that brought another man to my house who wore a tutu, the man that was actually married and lived in my apartment complex, the one that turned out to be gay, the one that left me after 5 years.  Does every single woman have a list this colorful?  Am I the problem?  What in the actual fuck is wrong with me?

Of course this isn’t about any of the men.  None of them actually matter.  I can’t even tell you I like any of them.  But I can tell you I’m absolutely obsessed with what they think about me.  And that reality pisses me off.  I am successful professionally.  I have money in the bank.  I am reasonably pretty.  I am smart.  I have deep rooted real friendships that keep me alive.  I am strong.  But when it comes to men, I will crumble under a beer belied, blue collared, lives with his mother man-child named Stan in no time.  All Stan has to do is show the slightest bit of care and attention.  My BFF often asks me if I would expect more from a stranger – and of course I would.  But you guys!  There are the three situations that he really took care by asking me how I was or listening to a story I told.  So obviously he’s trying!?!  Eyeroll.

Once in awhile my brain finds that sweet spot.  I remember that I need to listen to Brene, and Glennon, and Oprah, and Liz.  I remember that my mind receives any rejection like a death.  I remember that I was raised to believe that all my emotions were ridiculous and unfounded and irritating and irrational.  But Glennon taught me that was a lie and, in fact, I am the canary.  Brene taught me that vulnerability was the essence of being human.  Rob taught me that God is love.  Oprah taught me that anything is possible.  Liz taught me that the journey is internal.  And every once in awhile, my thoughts land on all these lessons and truth.  I called BFF and asked her how can I remain in this spot in my brain where I know that MC is not important but I am.  She didn’t have an answer and neither do I .  Maybe the answer is the same as what it has always been – write it down, put it out there, be brave, know the pain will come again, trust God, keep moving, eat cheese.