Tumbleweed of a life.
I’m a little hesitant to fall in like again. Been there, done that. Girl meets boy. Girl likes boy. Boy likes girl. And voila, like a magic voodoo spell, everything just turns into a wrinkle of a past memory. I sit there back at square one of my conquests. Maybe even a tumbleweed or two will make a guest appearance as it rolls in the dust in the background of my depressing soap opera of a life. I’m making an effort to close myself off more because I’m tired of getting hurt, but what good will that do? I know I’m only hurting any chances I may get at finding someone I can truly talk to, appreciate and enjoy spending time with. But at this point, I really don’t care if I hurt my chances of actually making something work. My past flings have all been one-sided I feel. The second the opposite party starts to feel something, they’re on the run. I’m done with the chasing. The courting. The red wine binging late at night. I told my mom the other day, in an effort to skew her perception of a woman like me marrying early, that “I don’t need a man to fulfill any part of my life. I am focusing on my career and most of all, me. I want to do things that I enjoy and that will make me a better person. If I happen to meet someone that can keep up, reciprocate my actions and feelings, and stays, then maybe I’ll think about a relationship. Until then, I could care less about that annoying Y chromosome.”