Well, I'm back after more than two years (and 100 pounds).
And I'm dating someone.
Freaky, right?
Okay, so nice guy. Moves fast, but I'm told all men do that. I'm also told that I need to speak in plain English because men are stupid. That was evident on Sunday when, after confirming that I didn't want to spend time with him on Sunday night, and texting him my intentions, he called to try and talk me into allowing him to come over.
In recent years, I've come to understand that I LOATHE being needed. Now it appears I must explain that I'm used to being on my own, that I LOVE my solitude, that I will require space. At least for a while. Until my emotions catch up with what this is.
My gut (at least I think it's my gut) tells me to be still and see how this plays out. My hormones tell me to stop worrying and embrace my inner floozy. My old self tells me to make up all kinds of excuses and go back to what's comfortable.
Sure wish my gut would enunciate better.
