I'm not thinking marriage - really, I'm not - but there will always be a parallel universe
where this is my future. There will always be a spinster cat lady within me.
Regular and perceptive readers have intuited that I've not only had bad luck with money. I've also had atrocious luck with love. Because I've spent the past decade as a single woman - and yes, it's been ten years since I've had real and deeply rooted affection for another person within a scenario where there was long term potential - I was coming to believe ... to put it better, I was becoming comfortably acclimated to the housebound existence of an eccentric spinster. Possibly for eternity.
I know the 181 guises of a seasonal fling. I can spot a wally before they open their mouths and begin vomiting obnoxious pick-up lines. Deflecting - with grace yet lightning speed - bored spouses who'd play with my emotions (or more) for mere entertainment has sadly become one of my superpowers.
So I share this quiet but soul satisfying event that is happening in my life at a point when I was turning my back to that ideal called many things - romance, courtship, raised plasma nerve growth, etcs. This is the event: I'm falling in love with Super Handsome Man - slowly, cautiously, but most definitely completely. From his silly singing, his spot-on impersonations of Javier Bardem, to his trooping out into a storm to buy me throat lozenges, I know who is going to make my 2016 special.
Regular and perceptive readers - if you look back at older posts - will intuit that I've removed some (not all) excerpts from the Broke Bridget blog, which refer to any previous flings. Just out of respect for this new person who is a priority for me. And that is the primary message of tonight's blog: I have redrafted a few of my rants, revising them so that unimportant numbskulls have less of a presence in the chronicles of a poor girl named Broke Bridget. (happy meow) BEAR HUG FOR YOU!