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What I personally knew about courting women could comfortably fit into a thimble without taking it off your finger first. ↗
In an attempt to help me move on from my failed marriage, my mom set me up with Jesus Freak. In fact, the stoner hadn’t even finished moving out when she told me not to worry, because she already had someone better lined up for me. I was just lonely and desperate enough to endure a four-month celibate long distance relationship with a guy who read 15 chapters of the Bible and prayed for two hours every day and expected me to follow suit. He wanted to give our hypothetical children Bible names and for us to move to Korea to become missionaries. ↗
..."Dont marry an orange and expect him to turn into an apple." If you want an orange, great. If not, put him back in the proverbial fruit bowl for someone else to enjoy and move on. ↗
Everything was gone, the garden of wind and light, the Chrysalis, the Mother and her sister-crones, the rowan tree, everything. I was in a grove–no, it was a triad of trees: apple, oak, hazel. And at my feet something that smacked of familiar miens, a stone half buried in a pitch of heather. A stone bearing my name and a date I could hardly remember. A moment passed, another and in those moments I stood numb with gluey feet at the foot of my own grave. For the first time since I’d come to the Faeran Valley, I was alone. And the silence was deafening ↗
You’re not listening to me. God, sometimes, Mouse you make this shit for a guy so difficult. You take this in over the next two weeks. I’m not goin' anywhere. Never again. You gota live with that now. This is happening, baby. I didn't find you again just so I could have my heart ripped out twice. It’s staying there and you’re being wrapped up in it. So you've two weeks to get used to it then I’m back and we’re figuring this out. In the meantime, we talk, we text and you get your head together so we’re on the same page.” “You and me. We aren't dating.” “Damn right we're not. We’re way past that. ↗
There is just no comparison between having a dinner date with a man and staying home playing canasta with the girls. ↗
My path is the nice one. The one filled with friends who will smile when I buy their children books for their birthdays. Who will take me out, sometimes, when I call on a random night because I can't settle down. The path with peaceful holidays with my parents, and reasonable work promotions at reasonable times. The path with nice men, who take me on nice dates where I learn their last names the minute we shake hands at the bar. A path clear of a man with eyes that drift into some private sorrow. A path that will never lead to a man whose hands shake when he holds my face for a kiss that feels like falling. ↗
You are sweet to be so concerned over my love life, but I’ve decided only to date guys who have bigger swords than me. ↗
