A Place to Write

So it’s been only 4 days since I’ve stopped speaking with him and made the decision not to allow myself to run into any set of arms willing to hold me through my insecure times. Last night was the first time I actually had to exercise self control. I was looking hot, new hair cut. I felt sexy. Met a (girl)friend for dinner and drinks. Feeling confident.

Then. I walk out of the restaurant and get into my car… alone.

Slightly tipsy. A little horny. I want someone to validate how good I think I look. Because that will make it true. Stopped at a red light I instinctually start scrolling through the names on that little tempting screen. I realize what I’m doing and put my phone down.

No. I don’t need to call a man. I am going home alone and that is perfectly fine.

As I drive past my favorite bar my foot taps the break… No. No stopping to flirt with Mr.Bartender, mixer of excellent free drinks. I keep driving. Home. By myself. A good thing.

The sound of my keys hitting the table as I kick my apartment door closed behind me seems to reverberate in the silent room. Another reminder that I’m not stumbling in, awkwardly tugging someone’s clothes off.

My high heels clunk on the floor as I toss them to the side one by one.

Into the bedroom. As I pull my shirt off, then my jeans, then my bra, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, then pause. I really look at myself. Proud. Of my running. Of my boxing. Of forgetting what fast food tastes like. I turn and pose a little. I know I’m sexy.

I want someone else to see this. To agree with me. To tell me how good I look with their hands, their mouth. I want to see my image reflected in a hungry gaze below me.

I climb into bed. Silence my phone and lock it.

I close my eyes and imagine that mystery man I’m so desperate to find… not him. I don’t think of him as I guide my body towards a deeper relaxation.

The man I picture:

Tall, dark hair, passionate eyes.

Slightly arrogant.

Athletic. A runner, a climber, a something.

Opinionated. A Thinker.

Aloof. Independent

Intense.

Hilarious.

Hungry.

I am so desperate for him to find me. But I know. I know things need to happen first. Time needs to pass. We need to end officially. I need to truly become at peace with feeling complete without any male attention. When I come home alone, horny, and tipsy without immediately running through that old list of names – I’ll know.