WARNING!!! The following post contains vomit-inducing mushiness, if you’re still bitter about Valentine’s Day it’s best to skip this one! 😉
Two years ago today I was tired. Fed up, more like it. I had been back out and actively dating for about a year and nothing was working out. I dated miners, Mama’s boys, swing-dancers, photographers, social workers and computer salesmen. I dated a guy who told me he lived in the city and then was perplexed as to why I was upset when it turned out he lived waaaay outside of the city (AND wouldn’t give me his phone number…). I dated a guy who slobbered so much when he kissed that I accidentally swallowed his spit and almost threw up. Another was so painful to talk to because he couldn’t carry on a conversation that I went home, exhausted and with a sore throat. One guy wanted to hold my hand after only having talked to him for an hour.
I also dated a guy who I thought should have been perfect for me. He was so incredibly interesting, sweet and we had lots to talk about. We both wanted the same things for our future and really connected but I just didn’t feel anything, but he gave me flowers so I gave him a second date. I felt that there “should” be nothing wrong with him and that I was probably being overly picky. Sadly, after finding myself in an absolute panic knowing he was about to “make a move” and kiss me, I bolted out of the door and pathetically told him I wasn’t interested over email.
I almost gave up. I was getting so frustrated with the whole thing. I wanted so badly to be one of those hip, cool, independent women who thrived on the dating scene. I wanted to not care if the guy was right for me and just revel in meeting new people and having new experiences but I couldn’t. I knew I wanted a partner in life and I wasn’t going to stop until I found it.
I was told by some people in my life to just stop looking, or stop being so picky and give them a chance and other well-meaning advice but to me it just felt like I was giving up and I’m the type of person who always has hope so I kept at it.
I was trying out the online dating thing when I first moved to the city and so I sent a few emails out to a few different guys but then everything halted when my Grandmother passed away. It wasn’t entirely unexpected but still, she was my last living Grandparent and I loved her dearly. I immediately left the city to spend the week with my family.
During that week, however, to keep my mind off things I decided to respond to some emails, some being of a couple of the guys I had contacted the week before. After a couple of days I noticed I was looking forward more and more to the emails from one guy, in particular. He let me go through the motions of dealing with the grief of my Grandmother’s death, he made me laugh, we had a lot in common. We decided to go for coffee when I got back into the city.
To be honest, although I still held hope for my big romance, I had become pretty cynical and so I told myself before I headed out to the coffee shop to just go with it and, at the very least, try to keep positive and have fun.
I read a study somewhere that stated that you’ll know you want to see someone again in the first thirty seconds of meeting that person. Two years ago today Alan walked through the door of that coffee shop, asked if I was me and I knew the moment I looked at him that I wanted to see him again. By the end of the date I knew I never wanted to see anyone else’s face but his for the rest of my life.
Happy Anniversary, Baby! Thanks for making these last two years the best of my life and I can’t wait to see what the future brings! I love you!