Page 2 of Love Harder

Did I learn from them?

Probably not.

But the one thing I did learn is that I am a lot stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. I learned that I don’t need a man to complete me. I don’t need another person to validate myexistence because, in the end, I’m the one who has to live with my choices.

That’s progress, right?

So I should have known better whenheswept me off my feet…only to throw me off a cliff and watch me drown.

I fell for him, and boy, did I fall hard.

He was everything I wanted—looks, personality, heart; he was the perfect package. However, perfect doesn’t exist. I knew this. Yet I allowed him in when I should have slammed the door in his face.

Dating today is a fucking dumpster fire rolling down a hill while attempting to avoid a gauntlet of deathtraps along the way.

Swipe left.

Swipe right.

Love me.

Love me not.

I cannot keep up.

We live in a disposable world where one doesn’t even have to leave the house anymore to “meet” people. It’s all within a swipe to decide whether your “true love” is really out there.

I really miss the good old days when one’s ex stayed dead and buried and you never had to see or hear from them again. Now, it seems social media likes to recommend “friends” one may want to connect with.

Heads-up, they’re not on my friends list for a reason.

I don’t care what they’re doing. Who they’re fucking, and if she loved the Boston Pancake he gave her for their one-month anniversary (you’re welcome, Blush Podcast Besties). And I don’t care what they ate for dinner (here’s hoping it’s not an Alabama Tuna Melt. Again, Blush Besties, we will discuss further).

I choose not to see because ignorance is truly bliss.

You know what my triggers are…life. Life triggers me daily.

I’m all about my nurturing inner peace these days, and anything that disturbs that peace can fuck right off and take itself out with the trash I left outside. But social media seems to enjoy rubbing salt in the wounds of the brokenhearted any chance it gets, which is why I decided to write a book about dating in the modern world.

Whoever thought this was a good idea was clearly on crack, but alas, here we are.

The idea was called 40 Dates, 40 Nights, and I proposed to do just that. Who am I to back down from a challenge, no matter how insane it may be? I thought it was a clever play on the biblical coined phrase because this was, without a doubt, going to be a nightmare of biblical proportions.

I wanted to write a book about online dating versus IRL dating. I hate that that acronym exists, but it seems we’re even too lazy to speak words nowadays and would rather use abbreviations because it’s all about the hustle, baby.

I learned so much while researching. Some things I wish I could burn from my mind with a blowtorch. Others were rather educational.

I have always been fascinated by humans.

Every single one of us is different in our own way, and those ways are paths I enjoy traveling along, especially when I find a human who challenges me in ways I haven’t been before. Honestly, the weirder, the better.

I don’t use that term in a derogatory light because I am a proud weirdo. I have always gravitated toward the macabre. The strange. There is so much more to life…we just have to know where to look. Or get lost while searching.

I have surrounded myself with a group of misfits who are the most beautiful weirdos I love with my entire heart. They give me hope that good people do exist. Without my weirdos, I wouldn’t be here. That’s no word of a lie.

So embrace your tribe because they are the ones who will be your light when the darkness threatens to siphon out your flame. My girls and I have laughed; we’ve cried over the men in our lives. We’ve given nicknames to the men who love bombed us for weeks and promised they were different, only to be lying a-holes, faster than they can “root and boot” because if you can’t laugh, you’ll cry, right?

(I love you, Bunny, Angel, Mötley, and Sparkles).

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