If you're reading my blog, chances are, you were once a little girl who dreamed a lot like me. My first fantasies of wedded bliss occured at the tender age of five, in my parent's living room. I fancied Jason*, and after weeks of flirting (aka: pretending to hate him more than any other boy in our kindergarten class), I practiced for our wedding day. I used the roll of paper towel from the kitchen to create an aisle runner and practiced walking down it with a bunch of artifical flowers.
Our relationship was doomed from the start. My mom was angry I wasted perfectly good paper towels and I lost interest in Jason by first grade.
I always liked the idea of having a wedding. The beautiful dress, the diamond ring, and the doting husband. I'm now older (26) and my ring finger is as itchy as ever. After a couple of failed long-term relationships, I'm now with the guy I should've been with years ago. To be exact, nine years ago.
Wall* and I had been friends since high school. He was hilarious, a good listener, but shy with girls. Fast forward to eleven months ago: It is the right place and right time for us to consider dating. I'm hesitant, fresh out of another relationship. Wall gets the courage to say something to me that will bounce back and forth in my head for the next three months; "Sometimes, I think you're interested in me and sometimes I don't know." He was right. He'd been on my mind but I didn't want to have my heart broken again. And I couldn't stomach the repercussion of losing his friendship if that happened.
I've never been a big risk-taker, but I took the plunge, and it was the most rewarding risk I've taken....
* Some names have been changed to protect the innocent and unaware. Which names have been changed and which haven't? That will keep you wondering, eh? ;)
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