I’m aware of being alone.

I’m not scared. Not anxious. Not unhappy. I’m actually enjoying this phase in my life but also excited of who I might meet and what will happen. Am I going to meet him at a cafe? Or when I travel? Or from online-dating sites? How will it happen when it happens? I let myself bask in these ridiculous imagination sometime. It’s fun and I’ll smile.

I’ve had my heart really, really shattered only once. It hit me suddenly one morning and I carried around the ache in my heart for 6 months. I lost a lot of weight. I locked myself in my room and binge watch something inane on Netflix for hours. I refuse to meet up with friends. Went on a drinking rampage alone only to regret it immediately.

6 months and I’ve had enough. I’m not this person. I could be a lot of things but I’m not weak.

There have been boys since. Awkward, failed first dates that still makes me laugh. Men I enjoyed for a few months, weeks, days and also those that I would love to have known better. It’s a collection of experience.

Often, I wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Well, I’m not the easiest lady to date. A submissive one, I am most definitely not, darling. I’m opinionated. I don’t dim my voice when I have something to say. I have a temper that can be borderline satanic. I’m moody, prone to melancholic behaviour which I don’t even realise and most of all, I often enjoy (but not always) being a loner.

I’m not in a hurry. I’m not on quest to snag a husband. My heart is not in a mad rush to dive into someone else’s life. I just want someone who can meet me in the middle. A relationship where our lives meet, but does not become one. No, not yet. At the age of 32, where most of my close friends are already married and having their 3rd child, or are living with boyfriends, friends who have been with the same partner for a long, long time. I’m not ready for all that.

Right now, I’d like to find someone who held those promises to me.