About a month ago, I was sitting on the couch, deep in thought. I’d received an email from my aunt asking the name of my date for my cousin’s wedding next month. It had slipped my mind entirely that I had RSVP’d with a plus one. As I ran through a mental list of male friends that I would typically invite to a “plus-one event,” it occurred to me that I genuinely wanted to have someone in my life who fulfills that role.
I want a “plus one.”
It’s almost a foreign concept to me – wanting someone in my life who is more of a permanent fixture than a temporary fill-in. Heck, when I joke about thinking a long distance marriage would be perfect for me, I’m really only half joking. Since JME and I broke up, the closest I’ve come to commitment was regular, casual sex with Jake. Which was exactly what I needed and all I wanted for the last year.
Unfortunately, it occurred to me, the last time we talked, that our relationship was just not something I was interested in anymore – and neither of us was interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with each other. It was an emotional stalemate, and thus it ended – with absolutely no fanfare at all.
It was the first time it occurred to me that perhaps I was ready to take dating seriously again.
In the midst of all this thought, my phone rang. It was Meg. She sheepishly made some small talk and then got down to business:
There was a guy at work that she talks to occasionally. She overheard his conversation with another coworker – he’s at the point in his life where he’s interested in meeting someone he could get serious with.
Of course, Meg said, she thought of me.
And just like that, I was thrust into the world of dating.