City journal dating
I’ve been —and can I really, truly say that I can’t be there once, twice, three times again?
I didn’t include the fact that scuff marks were created when it was carried up the stairs, or the arms had breast milk stains I just couldn’t get 100 percent out.
I declined to describe the accident a baby boy had while sitting naked in that chair.
They’ll see what I feel is the best amateur photo of me—tan and sitting at the bar smiling with one of my best friends. It’s anything and everything—except how I would truly describe myself and the woman you may end up getting to know. Because any truth, even the ugly ones, contain sparks of light as we chip away at the layers of concrete we’ve built around our heart walls after years of heartbreak and missed connections.
They’ll see a photo taken of my son and me as we view the ocean and step in into the waves (only from behind, of course, so as not to reveal the face of that little boy I’m not ready for anyone to be familiar with just yet). About how I like to have a nice dinner out, as much as I love to sit on the couch under a warm blanket as I watch 80s movies, documentaries, or old episodes of “Dateline.” They’ll know all about how when I’m not being a mama, I’m working, or practicing yoga, or traveling. After the disappointment when the ones you believe to be I’ll meet you for a first date at a coffee shop or restaurant.