A lot of weird, introspective, self-observation crap happens when you become single.
Before Paul, I loved being single. Like, I had different dates all the time and was constantly meeting new people. I had a rotation of guys I really liked, however none of which I was remotely serious about, that kept me entertained. It was so much fun.
My attitude toward love in general was so passive it was borderline judgmental. The thought of weddings was disgusting. I would literally shudder. I remember having conversations with my friend Mayra about how monogamy was so boring, and how we never wanted that lifestyle. We’d be spinsters forever.
Then I met Paul last July and my world view was rocked. I found myself wanting to be really good, really exclusive with him, almost immediately. I ditched all the guys I thought I liked. We spent more and more time together.
He took me to see Chicago at TPAC and it was basically the best night of my life. When he asked me to be his girlfriend, he may have well as asked me to marry him.
I was no longer mine.
That’s what happens when you fall in love. You lose yourself in it. And when it eventually falls apart, there you are: no longer your own … and yet you belong to no one.
That’s the part where you have to find yourself again.
It’s also the part where you should sing, as loud as you can, “HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIIIIIIIIDE” by yourself in your car and go straight to the mall to stress shop, because Adele is right: the other side sucks.
My advice? Make like Tom Haverford from Parks and Recreation and ‘Treat Yo’Self’ once in a while to make it a little better.
So now you’ve got some new clothes, you’re tight with your squad, it’s been a little while since the break-up, you’ve got a few guys you’ve been dating. Everything is like it was before. It is a full-on buffet of possibility. Boys are everywhere. Life is grand.
It’s a Feast. You guys know what I’m talking about. You’re showered with attention from a myriad of different potential lovers. Dating options are limitless and every time you look at your phone someone new is hitting you up.
By this point you may or may not have dated a police officer, a guy who works at the state Capitol, a photographer, a professor, a model (good for you, I’m still trying), a filmmaker, or, God-forbid, a musician. You’ve also had some of the best dates of your life, all with zero stress of a relationship.
But then something happens and you get really busy. Hopefully the guys you’re choosing to date have lives too, and slowly you just lose connection with people. A few dates a week turns into ‘Netflix and Chill’ … by yourself. In sweat pants. With a box of ice cream.
My roommate Erin just broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago. She’s what I like to call Newly Single. There’s something magical about the Newly Single woman. She is so over it with her ex. She’s independent and self-confident. It’s almost like a newlywed or a pregnancy glow. She’s high on being single, drawing men to her like flies to honey. As I see Erin go on dates two to three nights in a row, I feel deflated. She even had three dates in one day last week. No joke! Like, I want that!
And I did have that. I had that glow. I had dates. I had boys. It’s a really ego-inflating feeling, getting all that attention, so when there’s a Famine it’s a real bummer.
I don’t intend to sound bitter either, because if I had three dates in a day you better bet I’d be going. But it is a juxtaposition.
When I was first single, I had so many dates. Four months later, I had three for the month of October. Three. For the whole month. Newly Single Erin had three in one day, and Four Months Single Me had three in one month.
Maybe every woman can have a Feast when she becomes Newly Single. Maybe it’s because of the glow. Is there an expiration date for that? And if so … have I met it? Am I doomed to sporadic, mediocre dates instead of a fun and full love life?
Who am I kidding? It’s all in my head.
There is no expiration date. It’s just Feast or Famine out there. It is November, after all. Where the turkey leg at? I’m ready for a Feast.
With love,
Lola
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