I’ve had numerous people tell me they were proud of me for getting back on this dating horse. Numerous people… It’s kinda weird actually. I guess it makes sense because…

Dating.
Fucking.
Sucks.

It’s a difficult balance between finding the appropriate amount of excitement, expectations, vulnerability and self-protection. You must be somewhat vulnerable during the process, otherwise you probably aren’t looking for anything substantial.

After my first date with “Canada” a few told me I was allowed feel excited. I told them it wasn’t time. Previous experiences have taught me that I have a difficult time locking down date number 2. There’s no use in feeling excitement if it’s just going to lead nowhere. We got to date no. 3 and that was the end of that.

Told.
You.
Guys.

I’m excellent at managing my own expectations. I like to think I’m pretty fucking realistic. My idea of a “fairy tale” is having someone understand what the fuck I mean when I reference Drake lyrics.

Double cup love, you the one I lean on.
*hella heart eyes emoji*

I think half the battle is that the men I encounter aren’t looking for the same thing I am. It doesn’t matter if I have multiple men texting me. I have no real advantage going on these dates if these dudes just don’t seem to care about filling any type of void they have in the love department. They sleep on texts for hours, they’re texting various women in the process, they’re just going through the motions without any real end goal.

I got goals tho, obviously.

I want that Sunday love back, the kind where you don’t do shit. That lazy Sunday love. I’m trying to replace something I once had. Actually, I’m waiting for something better than I’ve ever had, because after everything I’ve been through… I fucking deserve it and I’m trying to be proactive and patient about it, but it’s a frustrating process.

As much as I’ve complained about this the BAE-search is on pause at the moment, I need to focus on my livelihood. The job hunt is on full swing. Fortunately for me I’m excellent at finding a job, not so much at finding a man.

Gotta make paper, not love—at least for now.