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Dating : Single. On Purpose.

h2>Dating : Single. On Purpose.

Brittany Taylor

For some reason, this is the more difficult blog post to write, in spite of the vomiting of vulnerability you may have experienced from me for months now.

I’m sitting in my room, after a full Sunday of cleaning and laying low with my daughters. They’ve been amazing today- with the exception of Abigail periodically screaming at the top of her lungs when she knows her sister is about to tell me something inappropriate that Abby’s done.

Even still, I’ll take it. I feel blessed to have them here with me, even if I steal away and clean with my earphones in so I can listen to Kanye as loudly as I’d like. Even if I Marco Polo with my best friend and talk about my new dreams, given I’m starting from the bottom, again.

A custody battle and losing lots of material items can do that for a momma- make her just a bit more grateful for the screams.

But this post is about something else: Singlehood. Again.

I’ve been reading this book, Single. On Purpose., by John Kim, and it’s been a solid reminder of what I can do to make the most of my time right now. The last time I did this, I think I lasted a good 4 months before I went out on a date in my new hometown. I’d been in therapy and knew I’d be taking it slow, but just “wanted to see what was out there, and maybe search out -and swipe left- on some red flags.” It honestly wasn’t long enough.

I now get the pleasure of feeling the awkwardness of sitting with myself again. This time, with the sting of betrayal. The sting of not trusting myself to ever choose a partner again, because fuck… have you heard how my marriage ended?

The last time I saw or spoke to my ex-husband was 40 days ago. It was a relief to get out of the home and start over after the flip that I saw in him, and how quickly the demise of our marriage arrived after the exchange of our vows.

At first, the Tinder account was the least of my worries. But as I sit in the silence that I steal from my children while they sit in the other room, I feel the heaviness of holding all those truths.

I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt accepted for all of me- flaws, morning breath, mom bod, crooked teeth, crooked back- you name it. I knew I really did it for my husband.

At least that’s what he successfully made me feel.

I also feel betrayed. I don’t feel less-than anything, because I’m well enough to know that hurt people hurt people. But the betrayal is huge. Usually red flags are the kind of thing that you see and ignore and they get more vibrant and loud as time goes on.

Mine hit all at once- much later. Like a tsunami came through my life- and while I made it to the roof with my kids to safety- I no longer want to live by the sea.

And yet, I do. Because that old familiar craving of validation has been triggered. Because I read the books and still miss the feelings that I now know I must provide myself.

Because I am burnt out as a mother, and look for a weekend away, and it’s amplified by a lack of partnership to tackle parenting.

Because I fucking want someone to talk to.

And so here I am- coaching myself. Writing about my feelings instead of reacting to them.

Feelings aren’t facts. Temporary loneliness is just a reminder to connect, not a sign that I’m actually lonely. And fuck Bumble. For now.

Read also  Dating : What It Looks Like One Year After My Divorce

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