How Do I Look?

Tonight I am suddenly 16 all over, except with a 32 year old’s confidence.

I have my new last name, my freedom, and a date.  A real live date with a man who, so far, has been a perfect gentleman.  A real date at a restaurant I would have craved to try had I known about it before hand, one he picked out from listening to me closely talk about my love of sangria.  I have a new dress (well, a dress I wore to get divorced, but it’s a GOOD dress) and a new bag and my hair and make-up look pretty decent.  I have butterflies in my stomach and a pedicure and chafing gel on my thighs.  I’m set.

I haven’t been on a real date with a man probably ever.

I got married at 20 which was mostly “hey, wanna hang out in this parking lot?” and then in the past year I was mostly just slutty.  Not like huge volumes of slutty, but “Wanna go to a movie?  Oh and let’s make out instead of talking, deal?  Sweet.”  Both were what I needed at the time.

However, I gave up both sets of those boys as of April 4, 2011 and now I’m on my way and it feels so fun and girlie and giddy and lovely.  A moment like this seems to be the one I desperately craved for so long and no matter how it turns out, either a sweet kiss or an awkward “eh,” I’m so god damn game for all of it.

Sure, I hope tonight leads to a great love, who wouldn’t.  For now I’m going to take this great dress, these Spanx and just laugh really loudly with a man that isn’t anything like one I’ve met before.

I like that.



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