The night out last week was fun. My 23 year-old friend was charming. We hung out in downtown Raleigh and watched snow slowly cover the city. It was magical. Creation itself was magical. After a death-defying drive home, he dropped me at my door and got a hug. I was a good girl the entire night.
Two years ago, I would have worked hard to draw this sexy, kind man into relationship. My lonely self would be thrilled that he wanted to catch my gaze. I would wait by the phone for a second call and get butterflies in my stomach.
Who am I now? I am tired. I am feeling old. This man is a wonderful human being. He walks into the office and the women immediately flutter in lust. Good heart, good mind, and a good sense of humor.
None of that changes the fact that I am tired. I've invested emotionally and physically into several men in the last year and now I just don't feel like giving any more. I don't want to bear my soul. I don't want to take off my clothes. I don't even want flowers on Valentine's Day. Right now, I feel more like allowing a man into my living room once a week so that I can hold his hand while I watch Criminal Minds. That is the most that I have to offer.
We are going out Wednesday night to watch break dancers in Raleigh. I'll enjoy the novelty of it. I'll also enjoy dressing up a bit and hanging out with a nice person.
I sound like my 98 year-old grandfather as he described his new girlfriend. "I'd hold her hand if she wanted me to..."
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