I could feel them coming, so I hastily kissed him goodbye, turned around, and walked away – even though several parts of me wanted to stay there and never let him go.
When I reached the escalator, I decided to stop fighting and let the tears stream down my face during the walk back to my car.
I resolved to let myself be a baby until I placed my key in the ignition – then I’d put on my big girl panties and get back to the life I’d come to know (and LOVE) where there was mostly just me.
You see, I’ve gotten really good at just me. Over the last few years I’ve learned how to not sweat the small stuff and just enjoy being a single mom. As a single woman, I pride in my independence and strength and ability to enjoy my life without clinging to a man.
I look around at all the things I’ve accomplished on my own and how far I’ve come and I am literally in awe of myself. I have a home that is mine and things that are mine and a life that I’ve built for myself and my son that is more extraordinary than I’d ever hoped for.
The first day he arrived everything felt so foreign to me. There may have even been a few times I cringed at the thought of having to share my space with him for five consecutive days.
Initially, having a man in my world doing his man things was jarring.
He left the toilet seat up. He left the hand towel on the sink. He placed his shit everywhere.
As I looked around my apartment at the “chaos” he’d brought with him I began to wonder what the fuck I’d gotten myself into by inviting him to come stay with me. But then I realized what a bitch I was being; that all my asshole-like thoughts were just my fear talking.
My fear of change. My fear of having to give up my independence if I ever enter into a relationship again.
Those same fears are what have kept me from really letting a man in over the last three and a half years.
As I watched him snore on my couch, I had a long talk with myself in my head and decided to really give it a chance and enjoy our time together.
It didn’t matter if the toilet seat was up, or if my shit was misplaced – what mattered was that he was here and it was no longer just me.
What mattered was that he’d traveled across the country to spend time with little ol’ me.
What mattered was that I had a companion for the next five days to do all of the things one does when they have one.
I could finally go on all the dates I’d missed out on the last few months by being a picky jerk. I had someone to curl up next to on the couch with while I watched TV. I had someone to walk hand in hand with through stores and parking lots.
After 3+ years of just me, I had a ready made +1.
It was like having a boyfriend with a 5 day expiration date.
It sounds fucked up, but looking at it that way really took the pressure off.
Once my walls came down things were easy. By Day 2 there was stuff laying all over my apartment and I didn’t even care.
All I cared about was enjoying every second I had left with him.
It honestly felt like he had been there all along. Like we’d been dating for months and had melted into each other in that way couples in relationships do. I felt more comfortable with him than any man I’d known before.
By Day 3 I could look him in the eye and get my point across without even saying a word. When we were out in public together it felt like there was no one else around.
In short – my time with him was amazing.
He evoked feelings in me I hadn’t felt in awhile- feelings I was not at all expecting to.
I’m not saying I fell in love with him during his time here because at the age of almost 34 (My birthday is in 11 days, bitches) I know better than to fall too hard too fast, but I am definitely saying he will forever hold a special place in my heart and head.
He’s the guy that made me see I won’t be alone forever.
He’s the guy that made me realize it doesn’t make me weak to still want love.
He’s the guy that made me remember why I smile my biggest smiles when I’m in a healthy relationship.
He’s the guy that left on an airplane today and now it’s just me, again.