Last week I had a bit of a nervous breakdown. In retrospect it wasn’t really a nervous breakdown, it was just a prelude to a physical illness – which I should have recognized – combined with a bad case of PMS, but at the time I was freaking out.
Let me explain: it was a Sunday afternoon and I was supposed to head over to a friend’s house to grill. I got up and wasn’t feeling…entirely myself. I felt snippy and cross but chalked it up to not getting enough sleep. I chatted with my friend, made some firm plans, hopped in the shower and then proceeded to get dressed. I wasn’t wild about my outfit so I changed. Then changed again. Then changed again. And on and on until my entire wardrobe was in a pile around my feet and I was holding my sobbing face in my hands.
Not a flattering scene. I never made it to the BBQ. I climbed back into bed and slept all day. I was sicky, but totally didn’t realize it. Anyway.
Trying on a ton of outfits in the morning has never been my routine. I know some women are like that, but I’m not. While I’m showering I usually mentally flip through my drawers and settle on an outfit. 99% of the time it’s the right outfit. It fits. I put it on and I happily go about my day.
I realized that I’m totally the same way about dating, and that I’ve never been into, “trying on,” men. I know what is going to suit me and when I see it, I put it on. I don’t slip into one guy for a minute, take a look at myself in the mirror then toss him into the laundry pile. I usually have that mental image of the, “right,” one and know him when I see him. Obviously sometimes that doesn’t work out, but 99% of the time, it’s right, it fits, and I happily go about my relationship.
One of my girl friends from childhood doesn’t like this one bit. Now that I’m single it’s like she’s in overdrive. She’s always asking, “Did you go on a date? Did you meet anyone? Are you looking online? Are you going to just sit there and be single?” Maybe I am lazy. No, strike that, I am DEFINITELY lazy about dating, but I really don’t feel like standing in a pile of discarded men, sobbing and feeling like I’m losing my grip on reality.
I don’t know what my next guy will look like, but I know he’ll be a perfect fit. That’s enough for me right now. I might go buy a few new dresses in the meantime though because, quite frankly, I have nothing to wear.