A Fresh Start

by Amy on December 28, 2015 · 0 comments

Oh, my gosh…this guy I used to fancy, the one I called Superman, is here! At Starbucks, the very place where I just happen to be. Sitting across the room slouched over his laptop, his face sexy-scruffy because it’s still the holidays. In my Old Life this discovery would have made me feel like I’d hit the jackpot, and this blog entry would have been entirely different. I would have written about trying to find an open seat next to him and then trying to strike up a conversation but of course finding no words as usual and then he would maybe smile at me and walk out the door while I stared after him with my mouth open and the inkling of a brilliant opening line yet residing on my tongue and I wouldn’t see him again for three years but he would become the subject all over again of my every love aspiration.

Boy, do I feel a hundred years older. Seeing him here today is mostly remarkable because I am completely unmoved. Instead I’m thinking, what the hell was I thinking? He is the EXACT KIND OF GUY I wasted my time on for the first 40 years of my life. Handsome dreamboat of a guy with slippery dark hair and movie-star blue eyes, towering over the mere mortals around him. I started calling him Superman because he was dressed like Clark Kent at a Halloween party when I first saw him, and I’m a sucker for the gorgeous nerdy look. My few encounters with him in the past, though, proved him to be an unfriendly sort and, frankly, kind of unintelligible when he talked. (Intelligible is always a good trait in your man, wouldn’t you agree?) In short, this kind of guy, my former type, no longer appeals to me in the least. That’s because this is my New Life.

Holy crap. I’m a mommy now! Of two beautiful, needy, fabulous, exhausting little ones. About four years ago I wrapped myself into a cocoon of babymaking and baby rearing and called off the search for a Good One. Four years later, like Rip Van Winkle waking after 20 years of slumber, a bear emerging from a long winter’s hibernation, a caterpillar on the beautiful end of metamorphosis, well, you get the point, I’m a whole different me. And the new me has no time or inclination for sexy-scruffy-faced jerks. I’d rather take a bubblebath.

The really cool thing about where I am in my life now, though, is that I have different goals. Well, no goals, really. Before babies, even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I always felt in a hurry, the need to find Perfect Daddy so I could be a mommy. I’m now a mommy. Turns out I didn’t need Perfect Daddy to make this happen, although it may have been a nicer way to go about the whole affair.

But now I’m not in a hurry. Except on the occasion there’s a snake in the garage, I’ve pretty much got it covered. And jumping to the top of my list of appealing traits in a Good One is someone who will rub my feet and make me a pasta dinner with chocolate for dessert and generally worship me despite the dark circles under my eyes and my formerly baby-stuffed tummy pouch. Slippery dark hair? Whatevs. Come to think of it, as I study him more closely now (covertly of course so he doesn’t think I’m a weirdo), his slippery dark hair is threaded with silver. Anyway, poor guy. It’s not like I ever knew him in the first place. He’s probably perfectly nice, and now he’s the star of my blog entry about Jerks. It’s not his fault he looks like Superman.

It’s like when you go to the mall after Christmas, just because, not to buy a gazillion gifts. “Just browsing today?” the sales clerk asks. “Yep. Just looking,” you respond, as you flip through the different options on the racks. How nice that the busy season is over and you have the time to do so. And how fun when just browsing leads to that pair of jeans that fits you perfectly and that you wear for the next twenty years. Or maybe it doesn’t and you just keep browsing and enjoying the classical music playing overhead and sipping your coffee and appreciating what you have at home.

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