Seventh post in...

...just three days. It's a record! Or an obsession, but the former is more flattering.

It's strange when someone you once fancied yourself to be in love with gets married to someone else. I was young, foolish, and caught up in the magic of someone--anyone--being attracted to me. I made mistakes. I made a lot of mistakes, some of which will continue to affect the relationships I have long into the future. Do we ever fully recover from a broken heart? I don't know yet. Two years hasn't completely eradicated the hurt, though the sting is far less sharp.

The funny thing about love, and about love lost, is that dwelling in the heartache perpetuates it. Opening yourself up to love again -- becoming vulnerable though you know the hurt that may come -- is what opens you to the potential of healing.

I've been in a whopping two relationships in my life. In nearly 23 years, someone has called me their own for just 6 months. Those times, though limited, have been times of great joy and opportunities to learn more about myself than I could ever know while on my own. I look forward to my next adventure in romance (and admittedly, I hope I can apply the "3rd time's the charm rule, and just make that one stick). Many of my friends are ring shopping, planning weddings, and having babies, while I spend my evenings cuddling up to a furry black cat. I dearly love her, but she will never provide a sufficient substitute for a man.

Yet in a rare period of contentment, I'm happy with my current state. The world holds possibilities for me that my attached friends can't imagine -- at least not without the consent, sacrifice, and/or participation of their significant other.

I'm 23,* single, and childless. And I'm happy. Booyah.






*Okay, I'm not 23 yet. But I will be in less than 48 hours, so I'm practicing.