I'm Just A Girl Who Can't Say No

I'm in a terrible fix!

Great song. And quite fitting for tonight.

Here I sit, sipping an affordable American sparkler (the economic downturn has even hit your diva) waiting for yet another date to pick me up. I put on my favorite zebra striped peeptoe wedges and flashed back to a memory.

It was 16 months ago. My very first post-husband date. I bought these shoes specifically for the date. I was thinner (we won't say how much), hair was longer, and I was not as good at dating as I am now. I remember my hand shaking as I took a sip of my French champagne (ahhh, life pre-recession). This was a true first date - met him on match.com. In the beginning there were several first dates and rarely a second. Either he was not what I was looking for, or vice versa. For this guy I was not what he was looking for - which was fine because looking back he reminded me a lot of my ex-husband.

But here I sit, in the same shoes, drinking the same type of drink (if not the exact same) waiting for another man to pick me up. This is a second date. Also off match.com. For the record, I have not been on match.com since late January/early February. But it took us a very long time to meet in person (2 weeks ago). I am not nervous about seeing him. I know my conversation will be fine. I am not worried too much about what he thinks of my looks. They aren't what they were 16 months ago. I've gained weight. Would I like to change that? Yes. Am I working to change that? Yes. Am I going to change that in the next 40 minutes? No. So I am not going to worry about it - too much.

I have more second dates now. More third dates. More men that actually start to care about me. That, my friends, is when it gets really scary. I keep saying I'm opening my heart but I'm not really. I think I'm just looking out the peephole. Maybe I'm opening up but keeping the chain on the door. All I know is flinging it wide is terrifying me. Making me stutter forward when most women would run toward some of these men.

Or maybe I'm caught up in my own metaphors.

Take care, dear readers. I'm in my lucky shoes.