I’m Ready.

I feel ready to date again. I feel excited about going out. I feel hopeful. I feel that I am getting into a groove here in San Francisco. I’ve been out most nights this week and I’ve found friends that I enjoy being around. This repeated comfort that I have been building since August fills me with warmth. I feel ready to let someone more intimate into my life.

Am I just saying this because I’m on my period? I am always hornier on my period. Please note I said, ready to date, not ready for a relationship. I am ready to have fun with men again. I want to enjoy their presence, their looks, the way they smell. I play this game with myself where I try to make and maintain eye contact with men I find attractive on the street. I hold their gaze and when I am feeling especially bold, I smile. This is in direct opposition to the way I have been since August. Distracted, avoidant of eyes, dreading leaving my apartment. It has been a total 180. I know it makes a difference. I must be sending out some sort of energy that men are picking up on because I am getting approached.

Earlier this week after I had dinner with my Dad, I was walking to Postmates (ugh) to meet an old co-worker and a man stopped me on the street to say he loved my style. He wasn’t an old guy, he wasn’t a creepy guy, he was just a guy. I continued walking, met my old coworker and we proceeded to Local Edition. The coolest bar I had forgotten existed. I believe the last time I was there I was 21 and still going to LMU. They had typewriters everywhere. It was heavenly. But seriously, each of those typewriters is worth a fortune and they had 20+. A jazz band was playing. The drummer and saxophonist were incredibly handsome. We sat at a high table right up front..

While sipping our old fashions I roamed my eyes in and around what was in front of me, oh and they stared back. It was a fun game. All chaste. Then an attractive woman approached me to dance with her and her husband. I obliged. My former co-worker told me they were trying to proposition me, and then proceeded to tell me about his first and only threesome experience in Iceland. Meanwhile, I stared with impressive self discipline at the saxophonist whose name was as memorable as his musical talent, Galen Green.