Despite declaring it loud and proud to anyone who would listen that I am actually quite content and don’t want ‘a man messing up my house’. I am not fully living that truth. I still miss the ex daily (don’t worry this isn’t going to be another one of those posts) and there are times when I just think how nice it would be to have someone to help put out the washing, load the dishwasher, cook tea after a long day, share money worries.
I know that none of these reasons are good enough reasons to start a relationship, and when I’m not tired/hormonal/it’s dark outside and I’m scared to walk BD alone then I am honestly very happy doing it alone, in fact I have commented how pleased I am to have my little house and how happy I am – the happiest I’ve been for a while.
However, there has been a little male interest in me. I have been asked on a couple of dates and I have made out with a guy.
The problem is the make interest is not from the sorts of guys I should be wanting it from. One of them has openly admitted to not wanting a relationship with me in the past and offered his services if I had an ‘itch that wanted scratching’ the other is well actually pretty much the same, he claims to fancy me despite trying hard not to and is kinda not fully single.
I AM BETTER THAN BOTH THESE GUYS.
But that doesn’t stop me from checking my phone every few minutes hoping one of them has text. It doesn’t prevent me from analysis to death the messages when they do. It doesn’t stop me wanting to run into them when I am looking my best or prevent me from spending an extra few months agonising over what to wear to an event that I know they will both be attending….. and I hate it!
I hate it.
It was one of the many things I loved about being in a relationship. I had done the dating thing. I had lived the single life and before meeting the ex I had decided that I would properly try to find ‘the one’ and was going to start using dating websites in the new year. However, the ex coming along in June of that year put pay to a need for dating sites. Co-habiting with the man I loved was not only amazing and wonderful but for a whole other side of things it meant I was free (at least I was until it all went tits up) I didn’t agonise over texts, I didn’t wonder if a touch was intended or not. I’d been there done that and reached a new exciting place – one with talks of baby’s and plans for retirement……..to be honest I am less than thrilled to be back here.
I know that I don’t want these guys.
I know that I am just enjoying a bit of fun. But it’s not fully fun. Sure I love the attention when I am getting a message and I even enjoy the flutter of butterflies when one of them gives me a look across a room, and I know that the look is intended solely for me. But the rest of the time it’s just a bit poo.
The really annoying thing is I know that this is just the start.
I am going to have months if not years of playing the dating game and a few months in I am already sick of it!