“Stumbling over all the states, mumbling like a basket case;

Love is like a rattlensnake, before it bites, it tires to warn ya;

But my heart is just a little boy, holding hands like brand new toys;

Drunk on freedom, stuck on choice;

Just cooing for the rattle’s noise” – Jack Van Cleaf, Zach Bryan

So, I haven’t written a blog post since 2017. I still run but I no longer run marathons. I run on my treadmill in my garage which is the only way I allow myself to watch shows written by Taylor Sheridan. If I am going to rot my brain with that crap, I might as well be helping my body. Something good has to come out of watching all of that toxic masculinity.

I’m older now, we all are. I have a lot more tattoos. I lost half my hearing due to my autoimmune disease. I ran another marathon. I’ve seen a lot more shit. I’ve also had a lot more fun than I knew was possible. My therapist told me I should write again. I think she probably meant in a journal or something and not out here for the world to read but, whatever. It’s fine. It’s a weird time.

There are so many things I could write about. I could write about the sorry state of the country but there are lots of people doing that who are better than me. I just feel this wringing of the hands type anxiety and an impending sense of doom. No one is coming to save us so we should save ourselves but is anyone really going to actually do something? Likely, not. I have no idea what this means. I think Costa Rica looks nice. I’m not sure I want to reenact scenes from Les Mis but you just never know.

I could write about the absence and withdrawal of my oldest child. It is a pain that is incredibly deep and so very raw. It catches me in moments and I am quite literally gutted. It does feel like there is a hole in my heart that bleeds into my liver. I’m not ready to talk about it in detail and there is someone else’s privacy at stake, as well, so I won’t. Maybe at a later date.

Instead, I’m going to write a little about joy and love. I don’t think that just because the world is on fire that we should forgo joy. I know people are suffering and will continue to suffer but in between this suffering, I think we win by finding joy where we can. I think it was Margaret Atwood who wrote in The Handmaid’s Tale “nolite te bastardes carborundorum” which translates to “don’t let the bastards grind you down”. I’m getting out of the house. I’m exercising routinely. I am making in person connections and forging new relationships. Which brings me to love.

Anyone who has known me for the past eight years knows that I have stiff-armed meaningful romantic relationships like that guy on the Heisman trophy. I make many jokes and post a lot of memes about women’s perceived failings on men. I have been on a lot of bad dates. I have been on some really fun dates with very emotionally unavailable men. I even dated someone for two months at a point in there but he was so very not the right person to have tried that experiment with. I have talked about none of it publicly until now. I’ve always been just a little wild when it comes to boys. I have shit taste in men. People always say that you find love when you aren’t looking for it. Well, I absolutely was not. Not at all, I was actively running from it. But, damn if it didn’t find me.

I have not hard launched him yet (it’s coming). He is my boyfriend but we’re in our 50s so is that what you are supposed to call it? Partner? Significant other? I’m going with boyfriend since that is a term Gen X understands. There is a story here of how a girl from North Carolina met a guy from Texas while they were both on vacation in California and decided that they had caught lightening in a bottle and were going to give this thing a go. It involves a lot extroversion (mostly on my part but a fair amount on his), a Dr. Who convention (that I was not attending but he was) and a hotel bar (grateful to Marriott Bonvoy and our mutual brand loyalty). He is a 180 from the men I usually date. The universe sent me something different and made me pay attention to it. He is a writer and damn good one so it’s a little intimidating to write about it knowing he could do better. He can also sing and is really good at karaoke which just gives me another reason to never sing in public, again. He is OG Gen X and unapologetically so. He thinks I am funny and doesn’t mind if I talk a lot.

It would be easier if I found someone closer to home. It would certainly be cheaper since there are a lot of flights to DFW in my future (there are some trips to RDU in his future, too, but that is a more complex and nuanced thing). We have managed to see each other despite the distance. In reality, it would be easier if I didn’t even do this at all. I go through moments where my nervous system revolts. My brain screams “this is not safe” or “abort mission” or “it’s a trap” and I see the robot from Lost in Space waving his robot arms in my head. I am scared shitless. I am downright terrified. Maybe I should keep him a secret in case he doesn’t mean it, I think. Maybe I shouldn’t talk about any of this lest I jinx it. Karen, Sarah, Revi, Lindsey, Jenni, Vonne and Toni (my posse, my crew who rides at dawn for me) have heard EVERY one of these iterations on the phone or in our text stream. They have all enthusiastically endorsed this. They have all told me to calm the fuck down. One of them has told me that if he breaks my heart she will shove her foot up his ass (you know who you are, it could really apply to two of you).

My therapist, Jean, is all in on this. She used words like “growth” and “letting go of past pain”, etc. Most importantly, she said new people in my life don’t deserve to carry the water for something other people did to me. She told me not to care what other people think of our relationship because we’re the only two people in it. I know I pay her but to say these things to me but she is not wrong.

All of my fears are trauma responses. I am working hard on healing my trauma rather than making jokes about it (but there will always be jokes so not going to stop). Most importantly, I am learning to trust and be vulnerable, again. Don’t delay your joy. Don’t miss out on chances. Nobody knows if a relationship is going to last so you just have to leap and see where it lands. I’m willing to do this and whatever happens, happens. So, Reader, it’s official: I am in love. I have not been hacked. I actually typed those words.