Wedding bells or Fire alarms?

Some days I wake up and I’d love nothing more than to see something sparkly on my left ring finger and feel his arm around me.  To hear him breathing calmly and to inhale my linens which smell of him (*cough* and he shall smell faintly of Lacoste).  To go up and go make breakfast and have him wake up to the smell of bacon (yes I’d cook that for him).  To curl up and watch George Stephanopoulos and then E! News while he flips through the sunday paper pretended he doesn’t care about celebrity gossip, but chuckling every now and again.  Some days I want to wake up and slip out of our duvet into my slippers which will sit on the floor next to our bed, next to our puppy.  I’ll walk into the bathroom past his sink which invariably be messier than mine, and I’ll begin my daily routine of teeth brushing, and moisturizing only to have him roll over and invite me back to bed. An invitation I will accept.

Then there are other days…

By and large, I can say with great assurance that living “the single life” is not something that I am or have ever been interested in.  I do not like dating.  I do not like being out all times of night with my girlfriends, though I do love my girl friends.  I do not like coming home to an empty house, and going to sleep in an empty bed.  My current single status is a challenge for me.  Though, the thought of dating makes my skin crawl.  Deeds thinks I want to figure myself out, I don’t think I do. I think I want to figure out what I want.  At my core I’m pretty traditional and provincial, I enjoy the simplest things.  I just want someone to be here.  Well no, not just someone. The right one.  Maybe one day the thought of belonging to someone won’t simultaneously be a siren’s call and a sailor’s warning.  Maybe one day I’ll fall off the fence onto a side.



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