April 27, 2025. It has been four years since I published my last post. It has been just as long since I’ve gone back and re-read some of them. To me, it’s like when you don’t enjoy the sound of your voice in a recording. I cringe at the fact that my “Lessons Learned” were repetitive from post to post. I cringe at the fact that I gave so many men my power; I allowed them to steal my sparkle. I hardly spoke up. I didn’t always prioritize my needs. I cringe at the fact that during this current, brief moment of returning to online/serial dating, I STILL haven’t learned from some of those previous lessons.
Suffice it to say, much has unfolded since then.
I wrote about “The Musician, Part 1” back in January 2019. We embarked on a relationship from May of that year (immediately after The Hobbit and I broke up) until October 2024. It is unfortunate that I did not maintain the blog during those years – especially during COVID. The days melded into one another during that global crisis, but even some of the monotonous days were still worth writing about. I will delve into the recesses of my memory (and look back at thousands of texts) to regal you with those relationship stories in due time.
I ended it with the Musician in early October 2024, but didn’t physically move out of the condo we shared until December 1. I admit that I should have left about two years prior; but I got comfortable, complacent, codependent on the lifestyle we cultivated. I was hopeful that we could work it out and have a bright future together. In the last three years, we lived more as roommates who shared a bedroom and a puppy. He and I had had sex maybe five times. And no, I am not exaggerating. And during those last few times, we were always some level of drunk. The lack of intimacy was palpable. No kissing. No flirting. No physical touching or teasing. No hugging. The only place that we flourished was in public.; the social setting was our stage. Folks would come up to us and tell us that we were their “relationship goals”.
Within these last few years I thought I became asexual. I thought my forty-something-year-old hormones were out of harmony and was the reason why I wasn’t feeling sexual or sexy. I attributed my lack of sex drive to being perimenopausal. I thought that my pussy would dry up and collect dust forever. I thought I was broken.
I was wrong.
Talk about déjà vu. My ex-fiancé in the first blog post, The Heartbreak, and I broke up and I moved out from the condo we shared exactly 10 years ago. How am I in the exact same fucking situation a literal decade later?
I digress. Right now, it’s time to focus on what’s been going on SINCE that mess of a departure.
I declared that, after my break-up, I would focus on my personal growth; that I would make ME the priority. I wouldn’t go online to meet men; that I would meet someone organically if it presented itself. That I would “date” myself. I would enjoy the peace of being alone. I would become so in love with myself that I would radiate happiness, contentment and peace from within. I would truly focus on healing my traumas and my emotional wounds. I would figure out my dating “non-negotiables” and set proper boundaries and standards to protect my path and my peace. These were, and still are, my intentions.
February 17, 2025. Douts and I went over to Ambie’s for a Family Day tea party. The spread was abundant. There were a variety of sandwiches, a charcuterie board, a giant bowl of candy, powdered donuts and a chocolate chip cookie pie (baked by moi). There was tea, prosecco and wine. The three of us caught up on each other’s lives. Ambie had recently gotten out of a tough year-long relationship; she was going through the the mourning process. Douts was dating someone, but it wasn’t progressing into anything potentially serious. I hadn’t been dating at all…and I was happy about that. I updated them on my moving situation and job insecurity.
As the afternoon went on and the conversation flowed while the drinks endlessly poured, the ladies educated me on online dating. I hadn’t been online since the fucking “Roofer” experience. I remember vowing that I would never do it again. That I would remain single instead of endlessly scrolling through mind-numbing profiles.
I lied.
Ambie mentioned the Facebook dating app. I didn’t know one existed; neither did Douts. She showed us how easy it was to create and edit a profile. It essentially took pieces from my FB profile and added it to the app. It was free. It was easy. Elegantly wasted and enthusiastic about the fact that little effort was needed to create a profile, I signed up. The three of us navigated it together. It was amazing how fast you could start viewing profiles and swiping. Ambie said that because we were new to the app that we would get a lot of “likes” early on. She was right.
The afternoon quickly turned to evening. While we showed each other the men that were wanting to match with us on the app, we kept shooting the shit and decided that we needed to go on a girls’ trip. The winter was so long and cold. I know. It’s Canada. It’s winter. Shut the fuck up, Poppy. I suggested Sayulita, Mexico. I had never been but my homegirl, Jords, was a frequent visitor and had nothing but good things to say about that place. The girls were in! We decided on the Easter long weekend.
Moving on….
I checked in with myself. Was I ready to engage in mostly meaningless conversations in order to possibly find a good partner? Could I do this without expectations? Could I do this in a healthy way where I wasn’t seeking validation from a man, but commanding healthy, positive attention? Could I filter out the bullshit quickly since I was used to subpar relations? Could I do this knowing that I have an anxious attachment style that needed to be reprogrammed? Did I have the mental capacity to do this, knowing that I am still reeling and healing from a recent and terrible break-up? Would I trust my gut/intuition since I am more self-aware?
Fuck no…
…but here we are.
In my drunken haze, I felt confident in my ability to navigate online dating better than I did six years ago. I am a different person now. I am the most comfortable in my own skin than I’ve ever been. I feel the most confident than I can remember. I am learning what my boundaries are and am steadfast to commit to them. I would set standards for what I expected. I would ensure that I had non-negotiables set in stone. My therapist has helped me tremendously in this journey. My previous relationship with the Musician taught me so much about what I deserve. I am worthy. I am strong. I am love.
I CAN do this.
Again, I lied.
After leaving the app alone, we continued chatting and laughing over copious amounts of prosecco and wine. Around 10 or 11pm I walked my drunk ass to Union Station. We had been drinking since noon. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to check my “likes”. There were dozens. I felt a rush. It was fleeting, but it hit hard. I immediately started “x-ing” and “hearting” the different profiles. I breezed through them so quickly. I was engaged in conversations instantly. I was excited! I could navigate this online world with openness, grace, acceptance of what I cannot control and reason.
Poor, naïve Poppy. When will I ever learn?
