Drugstore Casanova

So, there I was. Drugstore basket in one hand, grey, leather bag over my shoulder and a latte in the other. I was shopping detoxing face masks, completely makeup free face with a few giant pimples (covered by tinted moisturizer, so, maybe I cheated.) I was in hot mess, day off mode.
There he stood, still tall, dark and slender, with his long guitarist fingers and hardworking hands. He was still green eyed, still brooding, and the husk in his voice still sounded like a night of Miles Davis and Clove cigarettes.
“It’s nice to see a woman with the balls to go naked in public.” He mused.
“Excuse me?”
“Your face doesn’t have any make up on it. It’s rare to see a woman go out like that. Confidence is fleeting. You’re like a unicorn.”
“Oh no, I’m not. Not at all.”
“Can’t a man give you a compliment? The color of your cheeks shows me that maybe you should thank me….or have a drink with me.”
“No thank you. Drinking’s still not my thing. I would have supposed you’d remember that. After all, it was on the list of reasons you broke up with me.”
All of the color in my face must have come from his, and all cocky swagger went haywire.
“Laura, I didn’t even….you don’t look like you. You look beautiful.”
“Well thanks for the ego boost. Have an amazing day! Be well, okay?” I smiled, embracing the relief of my Sunday Morning- Trapped in a Corner by a Chatty Lady skills, squeezing his hand and ran for my life toward the checkout counter.
It had been three years since he laid eyes on me. In that time I had graduated from college, lived in three different cities, shed fifty-something pounds and learned to use make up really well. I am well read, well-loved and respected in a variety of arenas. So, why did that encounter shake me so much? Why did his interest in me tie me in knots like that? It shouldn’t have. I was no longer emotionally attached to him to the slightest!
I’ve come to the only conclusion that I can. I still have “fat girl syndrome”. I still see my worth in moments in what it takes for a man to notice me and I’ve very rarely experienced that. The being wanted part, and when I have it’s always been by someone incredibly broken and toxic for my self-image. Maybe this is why I’m still single.
It’s not that I don’t want a boyfriend and all of the things that come with being someone’s someone, but, maybe I’m afraid that I’ll fall in love with someone who wants to change me again, someone who will use their affections as a weapon to get me to diet, exercise or dress certain ways (let alone the physical pressure.)
I think that’s definitely part of it. I love Jesus. I love serving him in my singleness, with my uncommitted time. I know that he’s got someone wonderful. But, some days, it’s just nice to be the one that someone finds attractive enough to make a fool of himself. Maybe I should take that and run with it. But, instead, I will remember that my time will come and that I don’t have to worry about it.

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