Dogs, Love, and a Hook-Up at Home Depot
Finding myself deep in the heart of Texas.
The West Texas sun glowed pumpkin orange, muskmelon yellow, and the red of ripe tomatoes. I set down my sledgehammer and shook my arms. I’d spent the morning gardening and the afternoon removing the ceiling full of pigeon poop out of my extreme fixer-upper of a house.
Five o’clock? I still needed to feed the dogs and get ready for a date, my first in 34 years. My hair was a mess. Would he like me? Memories of being an insecure teenager rushed back. What was I doing?
Sometimes, I was impulsive; too quick to prove things to myself and others — like this house, and insisting that I could fix it by myself. Perhaps it was not only about the house. It might have been a little about rebuilding my life and proving that I didn’t need a man. I prided myself on being tough and tried to believe I could be happy with only my dogs for company.
But that wasn’t the truth, not really. I worried I’d never be enough — for myself or anyone else. If I stayed away from men, from the potential of love or commitment I could pretend I was brave. Pretend it didn’t matter.
I missed having someone to talk to, and, yes, I missed sex. Being alone was more challenging than I’d expected.