Is there such a thing as being *too* comfortable being alone? That's a question I've been asking myself lately. I've gotten so used to my own company and being single that I'm wondering if I'll ever get off my arse and properly start dating again. If you watch my Instastories, you might have seen the Tinder and Bumble rampage I went on last weekend. What you won't have seen is that by the time Monday came around, my urge to put myself out there completely subsided and I was back in full-on loner mode 📺
I think I'm a bit scared of meeting someone, really liking them, and it ending badly. I don't want the emotional turmoil that comes with waiting hours for them to text back, getting ghosted, having an argument, or finding out they're a misogynist psychopath 💔
But maybe you have to risk the bad stuff to get the good stuff 💑
When I think about it, some of my fondest memories are of dates I've been on, even if things didn't work out in the end ❤️ There was the date to an art gallery where we kept pointing to different paintings and saying "bet that's what you look like naked" 🎨
There was the horror movie cinema date where I spent so much time wondering if there was a way to smoooothly hold his hand that I paid absolutely no attention to the film. I later found out he hadn't paid much attention either 🎥
There was the date who walked me home in the pouring rain before kissing me true rom-com style on my doorstep in a white shirt that was so wet it had gone see-through 💦
I feel like time is passing me by so quickly while I'm moving at a snail's pace. When I'm old, am I going to look back on my life and wish I'd gotten out there and had more romance? I doubt I'll look back all that fondly on my nights on the sofa watching Chicago Fire, but I'm oddly content and I don't want my peace to be interrupted!