I woke up this morning to quiet, a stillness. No one was texting me and – more importantly- no was not texting me.
I told The Golfer last week that I was busy for two weeks and would hit him up when I got free again. This morning I realized I could see him tonight, but my resistance to rejection is either high or low, depending on how you look at it: I don’t want to process yet someone else not wanting to spend time with me.
I don’t remember the last time my life was this man-free. I have always jockeyed for attention and sex from someone. If there wasn’t someone on deck, then I was plotting how to get someone there.
Today, I took my baby to the airport at 5 am to fly to the west coast to be with my sister, took the dog to the river for a two-hour hike and binge-watched Broadchurch on Netflix – the entire first season.
And I completely forgot about The Golfer.
I also avoided doing some administrative life things, but oh well. Sometimes I’m a shitty adult. Sometimes I kill it. Who’s signed up for 4 gym classes this week? This girl.
I took a selfie for the first time in weeks while on the trail and it’s so not sexy, so not revealing, so not sexual in any way I felt like it was worth sharing.
Just me being me. Hot and sweaty at the water’s edge sitting on an exposed root of a 50 ft tall cypress. No nipples, no nudity. Paddle boarders and kayakers rowed by in the baking sun while the dog cooled off in the dark waters along the bank behind me.
I felt calm. And relieved. No one was hurting me and more importantly, I wasn’t allowing it.