First time is a mistake, second is a pattern, third time, it’s clear I have a problem.

I started this whole project knowing my life was in a moment of change, and I needed to process that somehow. If I could go back and tell my past self just how much of a change it would be, I don’t know if I would have had the strength to go through with it. I relied on this outlet until I found another. I stumbled upon an anonymous pen pal that helped me through some of the darker moments of all of this. But like most things, it had to abruptly end, leaving me holding the pieces alone and panicking in the middle of a Walmart trying to buy a 1-year-old a birthday gift. Yes, you read that correctly. Yes, I’m aware crying in the children’s section and looking at pumpkin onesie is a crazy lady thing to do. But I was running late, and my life was blowing up again. There are a bunch of old journal posts I wrote but never published that I will retroactively add. If I’m going to give this a go again, I might as well go all out.

Married Need Not Apply.

I think I should probably start all my dating/social profiles like that. I’m not sure what it is about me that attracts married men, but damn, I have a knack for it. It’s like they can smell the desperation on me or something. I’m so touch-starved at this point that lines I refused to cross are now looking temptingly negotiable. Don’t worry; I won’t go wrecking any homes; I’m not that despicable. I would love to say I won’t cut more friends out of my life, but let’s be honest. Some of my “friends” would happily sacrifice any friendship for a chance to get me into bed, even temporarily. I’ve happily kept things platonic because friends, especially good ones, are hard to come by. But apparently not as allusive as grown, respectable, single men apparently. So, the first time, it was a cute lobbyist years ago. It was a casual on-and-off thing over the years, but I won’t lie; I crushed hard in the beginning. Then came Dan (or well, technically New Dan, but that’s going to grow old fast), and that one wrecked me. I obviously did not know the entire situation until I was already in too deep. It was the catalyst to jump.

So I did, and I ended up in Georgia. From boredom and lustful desperation, I decided to download Tinder again. Clearly, I haven’t learned. I set my parameters to local and got to swiping. He’s just some guy, cute and funny. It was casual chats at first, but then we started to click. And damn if that mother fucker ain’t poetic. It’s not enough that he understands how I feel. He has to go off and say it with the same passion and veracity I have. I’m a person of science and logic, but I will admit he had me thinking some external hand was at work. I immediately started tripping over my metaphorical feet around him. I keep oversharing and falling further down that ever-so-exhilarating rabbit hole. Till, SMACK. I’m married with a brood of children (and in Florida). You have got to be fucking kidding me. Now, I will admit from the information he has provided it’s an ENM (ethically non-monogamous) thing, but still. There I was for weeks, telling this guy all about how my life exploded when I met and trusted the wrong man. The whole time, he’s reassuring me it was their loss.

My friend thinks it's the confidence I’m attracted to. They know they can’t fail since they have someone to go home to.

It must be nice.