Here I was now, examining my bloody hand in the low, glowing yellow light of the street lamps trying to determine if it was worth a Lyft ride to the ER for sutures. My Marine First Aid Officer training (that is a certificate, not a government armed force, just to clarify,) lead me to determine it was an abrasion, maybe even laceration, but it didn’t matter the difference because neither could be sewn back together for quicker healing. It’s safe to say that I have set myself back much further than an extra 15 or 20 minutes…
“Well, I am wearing the same clothes I have been for 2 days now when my luggage went to Texas without me, have about 14% of my voice left, am slightly concerned I'm pregnant by a 24-year-old & I need a job... I am fucking fantastic, thank you for asking! How are you?!”
I responded to yet another Tinder-defending text message as (illegal) fireworks went off above Sunset Boulevard, but I kept walking away in the steady knowing that There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind… And there out of the darkness, one of them arrived.
The truth is, every time I meet a man that I have chemistry with, my mind goes into what could be… I find it a truly liberating experience of positivity because it doesn’t come from a “crazy” begging-to-be-filled void, but rather, an inspiring option for building something greater than either of us could alone. I mean, imagine it for a moment that this person truly wants to create a life with you, even if just for a little while – what beauty or change could we mold... How much easier could it be to reach higher... No hold’s barred… What could it mean to try?