Now what?
Today it dawned on me that over the past several months, I’ve spent a lot of time talking about the “getting over him” process, but very little about what comes after it. Maybe because I don’t feel like I’m there so I just haven’t added anything else to my agenda. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that maybe there really isn’t a “there.” And if I wait for this elusive “there,” then I’m likely to be finding myself looking for my denchers after sex and not just my panties.
Not to say that I’ve been holed up in my bedroom eating Lean Cuisines this whole time, sobbing into my bedsheets. That only lasted for the first couple months. I’ve been plenty busy and I’ve dated and broken up and had more than a few nights *ahem* sowing my oats around the greater Los Angeles area.
But opening yourself to someone new, being vulnerable again, after you’ve had your heart torn in half then ground into the pavement until it has morphed into a fine dust, well that takes guts. Because two years ago or not, I still remember the tears and the pain of laying in bed not wanting to move and I promised myself I’d never let myself feel that way again.
And then I remember the most vulnerable characteristic I possess— the fact that I’m a human being. And at the end of the day, we just wanna be loved. And love.
So what comes next? I guess after all the debris settles from the last love-induced leap, all that’s left to do is walk right up to the next cliff and toe the edge. To open your arms wide, hope for the best, and let yourself fall.
