The Time is Come
My mind is made up. I can no longer console myself with ice cream and Internet flirtations. I need to take myself off the injured list and get out. It has been six months since the train-wreck of my last real relationship, and three since the really scary date that nearly turned me off of human contact permanently. I have my courage back, and I am NOT going to allow a string of misfortunes to turn me into a cowering spinster. Poison Iris dates again!
I am not without reservations, but I can't respect myself if I sulk any longer. My Inner Gandalf is right: "It is in Men that we must place our hope."
Of course, my Inner Elrond answers: "Men? Men are weak." He is also right.
So, sadder, wiser (I hope) but still determined, I have accepted an invitation to a concert from someone I've known through work for a while now. Smart boy, knows his music, vaguely resembles a younger Viggo Mortenson.
Picked up a new outfit this afternoon; new haircut too. I am armed and ready. I can do this. I am back.
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