The theme in my life lately has been something along the lines of: don’t make excuses for not doing what you dream of doing — tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.
Strangely, this same message was playing out for The Leo and factored heavily into his decision to break up with me. Yep, you read that right. He — not I — initiated the breakup. Based on what I wrote a few posts ago, it would be understandable if you (and I) thought it was going to play out the other way around. As I write this, wearing a t-shirt I snagged from his place the last time I was there, I have no hard feelings, no regrets. Perhaps some amusement that he had advocated for getting back together only to pull the plug six weeks later. It’ll make a funny story one day in the not so distant future.
So what did I do after he called it off? I pinged my people: my besties (one of whom guest blogged here recently) and The Voyeur. Then, predictably, I re-downloaded my trusty favorite dating app, Bumble. Old habits die hard, y’all. Hilariously, I had planned to call The Confidante the next morning to fill him in, but when I woke up, he had already come across my revived Bumble profile, screenshotted it, and texted it to me. Whoops! Since The Leo had effectively canceled our weekend plans, I was left with a wide open Friday and Saturday night. I made plans to hang out with The Confidante on Friday, and I cautiously made three matches on Bumble for a potential Saturday meet-up.
Of the three, only one responded. He seemed normal (i.e. not creepy), our chat was intriguing, and he didn’t live too far from me. I decided that I wanted to gauge compatibility from the jump, so I broke with tradition and told him to pick me up so we could go to the grocery store, then head back to my place where he could play sous chef to my imperious head chef (because, you know, it’s my place).
As we stood in the checkout line, he asked me what my plans were for Mother’s Day, and I shrugged and said, probably coming back here to get groceries for the week. He took a few steps to his right, grabbed a bouquet of roses, and presenting them to me, said, “Happy Mother’s Day.” I almost melted right then.
Things only got better from there. We just clicked. It was possibly the greatest first date I’ve ever had in terms of compatibility, chemistry, and relationship potential. I’m not going to get into all of it here (yet), but I will say that we already have plans to go out again on Wednesday, and I’m stoked. No alias (yet). No number (yet, maybe ever). But I can’t wait to get to know him more.
I’d like to circle back to how I began this post, with the theme of my life. This afternoon, I got news that one of my high school classmates died suddenly. This news was just the latest in a string of unexpected deaths of people my age or younger. It’s staggering to think of only getting 30-some-odd years on this planet to do…well, everything. The news today was tragic, but my ego acknowledged their tragedy then pointed it back to me and how the reminder of life’s transience should drive my choices. It’s the fire lit beneath me, so to speak. If I’m not here tomorrow, how would I feel about how I lived my last day? There are some things I’d do exactly the same. But I’ve also got some big-picture goals that I didn’t make any headway in accomplishing. Going forward, I’d like to remedy that. Of course, I’ll mess this up sometimes, but I’d rather live more days that way — conscious of the finite gift that is my time on earth — than wasting hours and days and seasons on things I’ll regret.