I fancied myself in love a few times over the years. I read the signs. There was the quickened heartbeat. The flushed cheeks. The constant smile and inability to sleep. The sense of admiration. The desire to be near him … Continue reading
I always had this image of what my perfect guy would be like. Not dating for the first 25 years of my life gave ample time for my imagination to run wild. I crafted a fairy tale hero that would … Continue reading
I don’t write much about dating or relationships. It’s not really my thing, especially considering the last date I went on was never (or maybe once in a dream I barely remember…). I’ve had a couple almosts and a few I wishes, but relationships seems to elude me. Maybe some day when the time is right and the man is right and everything kind of comes together in that special way.
But I’ve seen my friends date. I’ve seen them date well and I’ve seen them date poorly. I’ve watched them suffer through hell and I’ve watched them end up at the altar with a start to their real life happy ever after. And of course, I’ve seen the movies, watched the tv shows, and read the books. Dating is everywhere. Apparently all the kids are doing it these days. (But seriously, sometimes I think my 9 year old sister will go on a date before me…)
So I won’t offer “advice”. Just my thoughts on this whole thing as an objective third party with no personal experience whatsoever. Here you go: Cassi Clerget on dating!
1. Tell him/her how you feel.
Guessing games are the worst. Continue reading
I never dated in college (or high school…or after college…or ever…) and I assumed that was because something was wrong with me. I was convinced something about me made me undateable, because what other explanation could there be? I watched my friends date nice guys and not so nice guys, and I waited for my turn. I had crushes, of course; there were a few young men who turned my head and brought a little smile to my face. But nothing happened, because nothing ever happened. Not to me.
So it was easy to stand in front of a mirror and tell myself that if parts of me were different then I would find love. I was the common denominator in my non-existent romances, after all. Maybe if I was skinnier or taller or had green eyes then I would find a man. Maybe if I was more of a party girl and less of an academic. Maybe if I was more religious or less reserved and quiet. Maybe if I had more tattoos and piercings or cared less about my family. Maybe if I watched different tv shows or read different books. Maybe if I wore shorter dresses or tighter pants or heels. Maybe if I didn’t wear glasses or a purity ring then love would find me. Maybe maybe maybe… Continue reading
I’ve been wondering what love is lately; what it would sound like or feel like or look like should I wish to draw a picture of it to keep in my pocket to take out on the days where loneliness and emptiness grab at my ankles, tripping me as I reach towards something lovely.
My knees and heart are bruised in my search for love. Though I suppose I should confess – I’ve never been in love…at least I don’t think I’ve been in love, and I have a friend who often (OFTEN) says, “When you know you know, and when you don’t know you still know” and since he’s rather brilliant, he tends to be right more often than I’d admit.
But, really, if I can’t look back, surrounded by memories and feelings and the smiles he shared with me when he thought they meant nothing, and simply know to my bones that that was love, then I’m inclined to guess it wasn’t. So I’m left with empty hands and eyes full of questions and lips that long for a kiss that’s been waiting for years or maybe just long enough for me to cross the room to him.
I thought I knew what love looked like. A few years ago, or even a few months ago, if you had asked me “What does love look like?” I would have said love was tall; well, taller than me. You know the type: tall, dark, and handsome. That’s what I thought love looked like.
I thought love was a person, someone to fill an emptiness inside me, but I don’t think that’s right. Continue reading