The One Thing I Do Wrong in Every Romantic Relationship
I hate to admit it, but eventually we all have to look in the mirror
I have this memory that often surfaces, bringing tears to my eyes. I’m 44 years old, though you wouldn’t have known it. I was smiling like a teenage girl — the kind of smile a young woman smiles when she falls in love for the very first time.
It wasn’t the first time for me. Not by a long shot. But it was the first time in almost a decade that I’d felt those butterflies. The first time that I had fallen for someone I thought would actually be a really good match. The first time I had fallen for someone who might, for once, return my affection.
I wore pink for him. That’s how optimistic I felt. Sure, I had to pair that feminine, girlish top with my “chubby jeans.” It was 2021, after all, and I was just coming out of a year of quarantine, where I’d gained enough weight that I didn’t fit into most of my pants. But I didn’t care. I knew I’d only be wearing those pants for a few minutes, if you know what I mean...
I looked at him from across the hotel room. That little 16-year-old inside me was doing cartwheels. This man was amazing. Gorgeous. Funny. Intelligent. Sexy. I couldn’t believe he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I couldn’t believe what was about to…
