Am I dating? The question I frequently get. Yes, I’ve been on dates. I’ve not been in a relationship in almost four years, but I fancy myself a good date to enlighten my senses. I’m quick to let ties go unless I am genuinely interested. Truth be told, I’ve been unimpressed about the modern day dating. Call me old fashioned. Courting actually has a soft spot in my heart. Going slow is still romantic. Privacy is still, in my eyes a sign of respect. 2020 dating is everything but these things. An era where everything moves fast, loses interest quick, and constantly having to reassure each other the feeling is “mutual?” It’s about what you can get out of it. Faster seems to burn the spark, and in terms of privacy— Everything is shared, and overshared. There is no time to build tension.

I feel like the majority would say they dislike dating. Personally, I have enjoyed going on dates, but I will say my dating experiences have been unlike the majority. I don’t go on dates to satisfy men. I go on dates for me. To remind myself what I’m looking for. To remind myself why I’m not easily entertained by status, and title, trips, or fancy dinners. Each date fine tunes my check list. Matter of fact, it’s so fine tuned I can immediately tell whether I’ll stick around for date two. It’s incredibly easy to have eyes on you, it’s more challenging to feel mentally stimulated by the eyes looking at you. I think people forget, I used to be engaged to a man who could’ve given me the entire world. He could stare at me, and without a word exchanged, he’d know every thought tracing through my mind. He was articulate with my body language and knew me like he was reading sign. A master of knowing the right way to dominate my thoughts. I’ve only felt that once more since him.

I’ve been fortunate to have been on dates with a handful of eligible Bachelor’s. One who was a world cup soccer coach, one who was the top Neuro-radiologist of Denver, one who was a Heavyweight champion of UFC boxing, a quarterback, and even one who has his own private jet company and chateaux in England. I’ve been on dates with men who’ve flown me away just for lunch, or the weekend, or out of the country, and men who’ve closed restaurants just so we could have dinner in private. I’ve had men find my location to take care of my lunch tabs. But none of that still won my interest. None of them could buy my affection. Confidently, I can share that 90% of the men I’ve ever been on a date with all wanted more than just a date. They wanted a relationship and I could never commit. The pieces of our puzzles never fit right. Despite flying me to Italy, or taking me to court level seats, if they couldn’t sit across from me and entice me to want to jump over that table and onto their lap, and have me madly wrap my hands around their neck while I suffocate them with my kiss… I simply didn’t want it. So I’d end it.

Great, you’ve traveled, and your accomplished, and maybe you own your own company, and you’ve experienced things that I haven’t. That’s great for you but that’s not enough for me to want to wake up beside you after a date or two. I’ve already tasted caviar and private flights, champagne in first class, and front row seats to the Playoffs. I crave for something none of them have delivered. I get excited by a feeling money can’t buy. If anything, status blinded men. There was a lot of bare minimum effort in touch and a whole lot of ego. Emphasis on this next sentence. I’ve not yet felt electricity in the company of someone. Sure, I’ve had many great conversations that lasted hours. That’s easy for me because I can carry a conversation. I can make an uncomfortable setting, feel comfortable. I have full control of how I’m going to engage with most men, and rarely has a man ever caught me off guard. Rarely have I not ever been two thoughts ahead of him, knowing the exact thing to say that will just pull him in more.

While I spent my young adulthood life playing house with my then fiance, I now have this freedom to explore my tastes. I have a freedom so many deny themselves of. The freedom to explore, the freedom to do as one pleases.. purely, the freedom to be free. I have no interest in being tied down any time soon. Like a sailboat eager for sea. So here I am, 30, and I’m (cautiously) testing the water. There’s something so fucking sexy about a woman who doesn’t sulk in her solitude. Use it to your advantage and discover what makes your knees tremble. Own your independence. Take your pleasure seriously.

I’m not rushing this next part of my life. It’s a choice who you share yourself, and your life with, and I think a lot of people forget that. A choice— your choice. The next person I decide to give my heart to, won’t be because I feel lonely or aged. I want to want that person. They’re going to feel every bit of woman in me. And I get it, the honeymoon phase doesn’t last, but hell, life may be short but it’s also long people. Choose your company wisely. Choose your partner wisely. Choose your romance wisely. Don’t settle simply because you feel like you’re running out of time. Don’t settle because you’re the last of the bunch. I’d rather wait for the breathtaking than for something to be taking the life out of me. We waste too much time giving ourselves away and how many times have we regretted it? How many kisses have been stolen from you? How many hands have touched you and left you feeling more alone than before? When’s the last time someone reminded you of something for the first time? Ask yourself this and ask it honestly.

To simply put it, I can’t recall when someone’s presence touched me in such a way I wanted their hands all over me. You should want that because it’s a damn good feeling. Their charisma, their demeanor, their way of life. It’s two people who sync, flow, and vibrate at the same intensity. There’s a reason why you remain “just friends” with a lot of the opposite sex. You can have commonality in almost all interests but yet remain just friends because for two people to feel that exact, intense, mutual feeling — that has nothing to do with one night stands, or alcohol, has to be a mere one chance out of who knows.

It’s questionable if it’s still possible to feel that amount of passion towards another but then I remember so vividly the pure adoring feeling I had once felt over someone. The back and forth roast to flirt ratio. The eye contact from across a crowded room, a smile after to validate the feeling is mutual. The way his hand guided my waist out of a party and as we stepped out the doors, he’d take the lead and remind me of his masculinity. I remember that it still exists because I’ve felt it. I don’t want to settle. I want to indulge in it. I want to devour the feeling. I want to be wholeheartedly smitten. I feel like I’ve been that possibility to a lot of men, but I never saw it possible with them.

. . .

Conquer a man’s visual attention, arouse his sensual desire, stimulate his mind… And in one, two, three, he’s reaching in to be closer. I have it mastered. Sure, maybe that’s speaking highly, but I can confidently, and proudly say I’m a flirt. A hell of a good one. The best you’ve ever had. The last time someone did that to me, he still lingers on my mind four years later. He’s like an aged wine that I still drink from time to time in my memories. I can still vividly recall the day he leaned in to kiss me and then lifted me up with such ease and held me in the middle of his kitchen floor and not once did I stop in that kiss to think, “How do I get out of this?” That’s what dating should feel like. That’s what not settling feels like. It’s a passionate, overwhelming combustion of molecules exploding. I’d slowly fall loose out of his grip, tightening my hold of his arms, and slowly I’d push back, stare at him.. I’d smile, and he’d kiss my forehead goodnight. I’d grab my coat, and he’d walk me to my car, and we’d let filthy thoughts play around in our mind overnight. He charmed me in such detail that we did that for months. We indulged in all the possibility —for months. I can’t tell you how many other hands have hugged me post dinner and I’ve felt nothing. Not even warmth on the coldest night.

. . .

It’s said that when you’re halfway between death and life and the electric current runs through your veins, it’s like stepping though hell and heaven, feeling the clash of lightening striking the ground. It’s like a breath of fresh air while your lungs have been gasping. For me, that’s romance. It’s electrifying, and it should shock the hell out of you. It should remind you of being alive. Romance isn’t dead and neither are you.

I always reference back to that aged bottle of wine that still tastes so damn good on my memory. A bottle I still so desperately quench for. And so many ask me what I’m looking for? What I’m holding out on? I’ll tell you this, if you’ve experienced full throttle of passion, why would you settle for just average? Why would you deprive yourself of the best feeling in life? Tension is the sexiest thing to have ever been felt. If you’re going to kiss someone, kiss them like you mean it. Resonate on their lips. Half-assed anything is the worst. I’ve never been enticed by quick or easy. That’s child’s play. Unless it’s madly passionate, intellectually stimulating, and matches the depth of my sexual desire, I don’t want it. There are too many mediocre things in life, and love shouldn’t be one of them.

With love,
L