If There Isn't Any Fine Print ...

So, I’ve spent a great deal of time doing for others and making sure that other people are happy. I realized this week that that includes trying to take advice. And of course with advice, comes opinion and we all know what opinion are like ...  I’ve been fooled by the love goggles many a time. This is how I wound up spending the last 4.5 years in a semi-dazed, alternating, happy/unhappy existence of not knowing who I was. I don’t want to end up there again. I almost did a few weeks ago. I nearly started a relationship wherein it started out with me feeling self-conscious of who I was.

Here’s how that dreadful feeling began. We were at coffee, and I was telling potential suitor #1 that we needed to take some steps back because feelings were developing and it wasn’t going to go anywhere. It was followed by a feeling of sadness and loss, but it felt right. We went on to talk about our fears of this “potential” relationship wherein he expressed a fear that he’d be settling anyway.

Excuse me?

Insert double take here, right? Nope, instead, I played the sympathetic card. The convo continued and this was stated: “I usually prefer more feminine women.”

Excuse me, again?

Did he just say that? It felt like déjà vu and my brain went to the memory of my ex-fiancé who had stated a similar sentiment. Surely you would think that this would motivate me to stick to my guns, but alas, no. I began to wonder if this was a flaw of mine and would I ever find the man of my dreams being the tomboy I was. This is the point where I started to feel uncomfortable for being me. I ignored it, still afraid of being myself.

We ended the night with me giving it a week to be sure and seeing if a date with Suitor #2 would help me decide. He told me some things that every girl wants to hear: “I choose you. I want you.” Ahhh ... the sweet sentiment. He left and I went inside. He called me an hour later, or maybe I called him. We spoke and suddenly, idiotically, I put a gag over the mouth of Reason and decided, fuck it. I’ll take him. The part that was thinking of Suitor #2 went to the corner and sulked.

Things felt glorious for the next 18 hours or so until I went on my daily walk. It was night; the house lights and stars were reflecting on the lake. It was absolutely beautiful. I immediately wished I could share it with Suitor #2.

Wait ...

Didn’t you choose Suitor #1?

Why are you thinking about the other guy and wishing he was with you to share it? Damn.

I woke the next morning panicked. I couldn’t do it. I kept thinking about the expressed sentiment of settling, the femininity statement, and just a gut feeling that it wasn’t right. I told him I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Intuition said it was all wrong.

So we come to Suitor #2. The one that I couldn’t stop thinking about. He was confused by my sudden decision so we met for coffee. We went for a wonderful, ball-freezing walk ... our energy playing with each other’s ... just enjoying the company of our selves and one another.

The night ended beautifully.

He told me that I was worth waiting for. Not that I wasn’t quite his type. Nope. 

I was worth waiting for.

So, here’s the tough, or not-so-tough, part. There’s something there that borders on magickal, is sincere, honest, and amazing. I can think of no reason to not move forward, save Fear. And Fear is an asshole. He’s like a bully that threatens that any action taken will end in an “unspoken result”. 
It’s come to this:

Fuck Fear. He can kiss my ass. 

When I can’t think of a single reason to say ‘no’ and every reason to say ‘yes’, then I know my answer.