Well hello, hello blogosphereicals!
I know. I know. Where the hell have I been?
Thanks to all of you that wrote comments asking me to come back. The 8 of you are really sweet. ;)
The truth is, I’ve missed you all.
Missed writing.
But Lindsey was in a reeeal dark place for a lil’ bit back there. I guess having your first real heartbreak at 34 can stir some shit up. Cause lemme tell you, that shit was stirred and stirred good!
I began to question EVERYTHING.
My life.
My job.
Where I lived.
My hair color (should I dye it? It’s still natural. And one of the only natural things I have left?)
My job. Yes, again.
Should I get a dog?
My job. Again again.
Are all my jeans hitting my legs in an odd place and no one is telling me??
And so on…
Not to mention I had the post of being my sister’s Maid Of Honor (and sole wedding party member). So, in the midst of my Goth period, I had to plan a bachelorette lakehouse party for 12 in Austin, play mediator between my mom and sister, help with things for the wedding [like the song my sister wanted me to sing as a surprise—NO PRESSURE]. Write a speech for my only sibling {even less pressure}, find a dress, fight with my mom, and still try to go to work.
My ex bf Champ also decided to re-emerge during that time, calling for a truce and apologizing for being angry at me for TWO years when he realizes I was just “doing what I needed to do.” We ended up meeting for dinner. It did not go amazingly.
Then I got home to some Dad-issues (that have since been resolved).
And maybe I also, in a fit of insanity, agreed to let a Brit guy I met on my last work trip to London come to stay in my shoebox with me. FOR A WHOLE WEEK. And play tour guide to all things New York/American. I'm super smart sometimes.
Luckily, I also took the entire month of August off. You know, for mental sanity/not hurtling myself off my office balcony whislt crying “carpe diem!” Or just whilst crying. Which I did. A LOT.
And, somewhere in there, during one particular "why am I here again?" day at work, I decided to force myself to get back on Match.com.
See, I had been dating. Many guys. None of whom weren’t 27. Or 28. And I was over it. But where the crap were the AA guys?
Some ideas:
NO WHERE.
Invisible.
Gay.
Taken.
Hiding.
Hiding under a douche boulder.
In Boulder.
In Brookland.
In my imagination.
So I decided to give Match another try, only this time with rules:
No meeting a guy unless I feel very good about his pics (in terms of “Am I attracted to you?”) and just as impornatly, do we have good chemistry via email/text or talking banter? No to either is a no-go.
The usual list of Dungeons and Dragons freaks, hobbits and grandpappys hit me up right off the bat. But, once again, I went people shopping. And, lucky lucky me. I found Ole Miss.
Who is now (drumroll)……..my boyfriend.
That’s right. I have a straight-up-now-tell-me BF.
And he is maybe the best guy I have ever met. I knew it from the beginning. It took me awhile to leggo my Eggo and really fall in. But fall I have. Or at least tripped and stumbled, Lindsey-style.
I’m totally smitten, to the point I may very easily end up sinking my own battleship. But I’m trying very hard to get out of my head, and stay out of it.
It’s been a solid 4 mos and we’re about to spend together:
-Both birthdays {Dec Sag twinsies!}
-Christmas with his fam in the New York area
-New Year’s in Colorado with my sis, hubs and friends
(not to mention a decent amount of money. Holiday travel—am I right?!)
"What does this mean for us readers?" you're undoubtedly asking.
Well, I still have some pretty good stories from the past few months that my depressed fingers just couldn't seem to type out. So maybe those will come up.
And, maybe I'll just write. About what the hell ever. And you can tell me if it sucks or not.
IRREGARDLESS [not a word], today I give thanks for all of you and your support.
To my amazing family.
My fabulous friends, all from different ways and walks but all such incredible people I can’t believe how blessed I am.
And, for Ole Miss.
Everyone, please say a little prayer. And feel free to have it start like this:
Please. Don’t f*k this up, Lindsey!
gobble gobble, y'all.
