Approximately two and a half years ago, I gave up dating. I did this for a couple of reasons. Part of me was in a very dark place, and you can read about that here if you like. But, I was also sick of the games. I was sick being stood up. I’ve been stood up A LOT. I was sick of dating guys who lived with their mamas. Also, a lot of those types out there. Most over 30. I’m not kidding. And I was just sick of finding a guy that I actually did like, and then have my feelings trampled on. (Seriously, just tell me if you don’t want to see me anymore. I’m not the kind to flip out about it. Much.)

To be honest, I would rather have had my eye poked out than to go on a date. So, I quit.

Flash forward to this week. I’ve agreed to go on a date. I’ve known the guy for a long time, but we haven’t seen each other in years. He’s a nice guy, and he makes me laugh. I don’t know if this date will go anywhere, but I think (?) it has the potential to. I think. The only thing so far that I don’t like about him is that he’s a damn UVA fan (sorry Wahoos!). Maybe I can bring him over to the Hokie Nation. Hmmm.

So, why am I not jumping for joy right now?

I know why. I’m scared. Just going on this date means opening myself up in a way that I promised myself that I wasn’t going to. It means opening up in a way that I don’t trust that I’m ready to do. This has nothing to do with him, and all to do with me. Can I do this? Really, can I? I never thought I would again.

Yet, here I am. Willing to go out with a boy and yes, I admit that I kinda want things to go well. But don’t tell anybody!