Changing my recipe.

I hope he laughs a lot.
I say this instead of ‘I hope he’s happy’ because happiness is so cliche. It’s eluded me for the majority of my life. Instead, I’ve been filled with a satiating contentedness. An appreciation and acceptance that this is life. What is will be and fighting it is tiring and mostly useless as an end result.

I say this to the future man I’ll love. Because no matter how hard I’ve tried to convince myself to give up, I can’t. I simply and wholeheartedly cannot. I am a human. Humans are social, they are not meant to be alone. Loneliness is the end. It’s the darkness that you look into but see no light. It’s the Friday nights home alone for the 3rd week in a row and all you crave is human interaction. And yet, loneliness can still present itself as an uninvited guest even when you’re not particularly alone. It’s the dark shadow that has a tendency to follow you, and it torments.

I hope he laughs a lot. I can almost hear it. Almost. His laugh. Hearty and contagious. And I hope one day it is I who musters this glorious sound from his chest to his vocal chords to my ears and then to my heart.

And I hope he’s my best friend. And I hope we can talk about anything, and not take things too seriously. I hope I look at him and see goodness. I hope I touch him and feel the kind of love that radiates from my fingertips all the way into my very bones.

I hope I wake up next to him and feel like there’s no where else I’d rather be in the world than beside him.

Yes, I decided I’m not giving up. I’m changing my recipe for loneliness.


It’s rare that I actually see a man I could picture myself going out with and being interested in. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since, you know…*cough* happened but I actually saw a guy at the gym today I was stricken by. He was an older guy, which doesn’t really mean much now that I’m 29. He looked to be in his mid-30’s or perhaps later 30’s. He resembled Richard Armitage (a younger version) and he had one of the nicest bodies I’ve seen before. He was wearing clothes of course, but I couldn’t help imaging what he’d look like without them. I could swear he was looking at me too, and we made eye contact a few times. When we did, he’d look down quickly and then look back up. I have been out of the game so long it’s hard to tell whether it’s interest or just catching someones eye on accident.

Like a stalker, I’m going to the gym at the same time tomorrow with hopes that he is there again. I have no self-esteem and can’t imagine a man being interested in me, especially while I’m sweaty and lifting heavy weights at the gym. I work hard. Harder than most women there. They tend to gravitate more towards the ellipticals and treadmills, boring themselves with steady state cardio.

I feel fat most of the time, even though I carry a lot of muscle. One of these days this damn weight will fall off. In the mean time, I do hope I get to see “sexy older guy” again. Any tips on a good opening line would be awesome. Or maybe a nice compliment I can give him without coming off as creepy and weird.

Still the sight of you sends ice through my veins

All these years later and the soft skin on your chest still brings me back

I can still smell your salty skin, you

I once took comfort in the little dip between your chest and shoulder

The small little crevice made by your collar bone, I could collect rain there

I’d drink it and I’d be nourished back to life

You were the love of my life

You are everything I’ve come to hate

About it