Truthfully, I’ve only ever had one love; the written word.
I truthfully think I may die alone because I don’t think any man will truly understand how much I love what I do. I’ve never wanted to do anything else, I had no plan B. My half assed plan of law was a big fail because in the end, it’s all about my writing, my words. Men already take a backseat to my daughters, but that makes sense. I can’t see any man loving me enough to read every word I’ve written. I don’t think anyone will understand that I hate going days without writing something. I love this. I love my blog, I love that people read it. I love every word I’ve ever written. I would love a mate, but no man will ever take an interest in my work enough to get that this is my non-parenting everything.
I did have a person first love & that was my good friend The Gleason Table. We dated for maybe a minute (or a couple of months) & went to prom & have settled into a comfortable friendship. We talk about our families (he has a beautiful wife who compliments him in every way & two amazing kids), sports, life. He’s been an amazing support through every horrible & awesome thing that’s happened over the last fifteen or so years & I’m lucky to have him as a friend.
Maybe someday I’ll meet someone I love as much as writing, but I doubt it. This is my greatest passion, my heart’s desire & I know deep down, no man will ever understand enough to support my drive to be the greatest writer in the world, read my blog religiously, read my articles & take as much pride in my successes as I do. Maybe that’s why I’m so comfortable alone. I have my work. My words, my passion to make me feel whole.