So what’s new?

I am now the proud follower of not one but two hedgehog Instagram accounts, I visited the land that says “alu-mini-um” (as in the foil) and the land notoriously B-I-G for smoked salmon.

It’s been a whirlwind of a few months and I didn’t quite know where to begin since our last encounter so I thought I’d dive right in.

I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again – I believe things reappear in our lives when we’re not quite done with them. That could be a lesson, a person, an event, a story – that restaurant the fourth person in a week as talked about, a book title that keeps making its way into conversation (Petit Crenn and The Alchemist respectively).

Lately for me, it’s been ghosts of lovers past up in here. Granted, I’m on good terms with most (all?) of my exes. It’s not unusual for one of them to drop a line and say “hi” or for us to meet up every once in a blue moon. But this feels different. It’s making me take a look at how I’m different and if these reappearances are me returning to a me past, or if there’s a particular reason for the me present.

A lot can happen in several years – inevitably I have grown as a person, learned some hard lessons, seen myself and others evolve, strengthen, soften the rough edges and harden some soft spots. Somewhere along the line, I stopped scribbling in my journal different last names, placing hearts above the “i”s and after some heartache, got real with myself and what I wanted. I not only grew clear on what I wanted, but became okay with it which is even more important. My eyes have just gained some Instagram-quality filters and I’m trying to pick the one that makes my photos look the coolest.

I tell myself not to write off anyone too quickly, to be open to what could be different instead of what I think it has to look like. But it’s a fine line between settling and being open to something else, isn’t it? Do I apply a softer filter, or go straight for that harsh vignette?! I’ll consult my two hedgehogs and get back to you.

For all the women out there, at what point do we take charge and when is traditional dating behavior still upheld? Bottom line, who gets to have the balls?

Example:
Scene: A real-life meet-cute. I’m passing a new restaurant on Divisadero and my three bags and I whip around and double back to view the menu. A cutie coming towards me passes me and doubles back as wel. We convene, noses up against the art deco menu box frame. I pretend to read it, hyper-aware of his delicate curls, sweet frames and tan sweater. We chit-chat about where we just came from and what intrigued us about this new neighborhood gem. I was off to meet a friend for pizza, he just came from working at a different pizza place down the street. We exchanged “enjoy your night”s and off we went, continuing in our opposite directions.

What was on the tip of my tongue was “Let’s met up here sometime” and it rolled off as my kale and I turned around probably too late.

Here we have a classic case of two potential outcomes:
1. I could have said just that – “Let’s grab a drink here one of these nights.”
2. It could have played out exactly as it did.

I’m not saying that one is more correct than the other – except #1 is better. I do think that as a woman and a woman that wants to be pursued a little, I half expected the guy the take initiative, to have the balls to say, you know what, let’s go out. I barely know you, but you seem cool, we were in the right place, right time and this feels right right now. Amiright?!

On the other hand, I’m equally confident and capable of going for it. So why did I hold back? What’s really keeping me from being the risk-taker I know I can be? I can tie it back to past heartbreak, fear of rejection, wanting to be pursued. All of those things are probably true and have some role pressing the pause button in these situations.

This isn’t the first time something like this has happened so maybe slowly but surely, I’ll wipe the paint right off that pause button, miss it entirely so the film keeps playing and that meet-cute will lead to a happily ever after (whoa, sap card).

After all, we all know the oil gets the squeak wheel (except clearly my Muni bus driver that used this phrase today).