I used to think that I wasn’t good enough. Mainly because of late tween and teenage experiences that bled into more colorful but not so great experiences in my early-twenties. And then furthermore, being married to someone who loved me based on conditions and not on who I was. Someone that could give up and someone that didn’t seem to see the best in me, even though I was trying my best. Perhaps he was too.
Now I know I am good enough. I have much to offer. A stable career. A blooming career. The ambition of a billion men and (wo)men. The spirit and energy of a teenager. The friendliness of a Labrador Retriever. A healthy child. Great friends. Two parents who tolerate me. Wink.
I’m fit and healthy. I have a good work-life balance although yes, I am rather busy. I make friends with strangers. I am open and not bitter. I am not the least bit grieving my divorce.
Yet somehow I end up feeling as if I have “too much” to offer someone that often dates, back off or never happen.
Guys worry: Are you judging my grammar? ( I am a writer after all.)
You write about sex? Wow. Intimidating.
Strong & Tall (Well, In Spirit),