So I got back into dating, after a really amazing stint of tinder hookups (quick and clean) and one not so quick and clean hookup (have recovered).

Now, I’m not insanely fit, but when I’m on dating apps I put “curvy” and there’s no button for “titless but packing ass”. So when I match with guys who look like god damn models, part of me is “yaaasss Queen” and the other half is “very suspicious man...”. Turns out a lot of those model men want an easy fuck. Good times, but not my thing right now. Some of them claim to want relationships, but can’t stop talking about sex and keep pushing me to enter into an erotic online play scenario...boooo.

So imagine my surprise when an equally gorgeously ripped man with the kindest face I’ve seen in a while, starts talking to me respectfully. Then when I give him my number two days later, the fucker CALLS me, asks how my day was, and I really sweet, caring, and respectful (again). How DARE he treat me like a human being!!!! 

So we’ve talked about 2 times on the phone, and here’s where my BPD starts to rear its wild little head. We have a lot in common. Culture-wise. Work ethic is very similar. We both loooovvve our mommas. So I’m already getting attached, and we haven’t met. But because I’ve Experienced disappointment early on in these things, I maintain a sense of practicality, and because he’s actually a busy working man, I can focus on other things I need to do rather than waiting for a text on my phone. Love it. Already I know in 3 days he calls or texts around 7pm. I always get a good morning text. 

So he called me tonight and because I had a night errand to run and he had a voice meeting with Asia at 8pm we said we’d talk later that evening. I just put faith and trust it’s going to happen so I enjoy my errands. I don’t rush. I take my time. When I get home I make a conscious effort to slowly do my face and brush my teeth. Help my family unpack our purchases from the shops. I’m just staying in the present.

So I’m in bed, text him I’m free, and wait.

And wait.
And wait
And wait some more
9:30 becomes 10:30. Becomes 10:55. I text him and say I’m going to shut it down at 11. Why do I do this? Because this is how I can establish boundaries. If I make myself too readily available, I open myself up prematurely to get hurt. If he respects it, it’s good.

But my stomach is churning a bit. I’d told my mother I was expecting a call, albeit a brief one. And my mother (again I love her) is my main trigger in life. So I know she’s waiting to see if I’m going to “fail”. Or rather, as I’ve changed my thinking, she’s waiting to see if a potential man will step up to the plate and be worth her daughter. 

11;30 he texts that he’s finally of his Asia phone meeting. I send him a little video clip of sleepy me, and ask for one in return. He says he doesn’t like sending video messages because t seems impersonal. My heart sinks. Maybe he’s keeping me at bay. I couldn’t video chat, it was too late. 

He says once we meet, we’ll probably do video chat primarily. I feel a little split. How can he know he likes me already? Never mind we’ve talked about a lot of things, we both follow each other on Instagram......now I’m set up to possibly disappoint him. 

I’m gorgeous. I know I am, but not by the Instagram standard. I’m exotic and a little soft, hecka curvy, and my brain works in a different way. A good way. But all I can think is what if he wants those Instagram babes who flash their tits and bikini shots? Stomach in knots.

My logical side reminds me that he’s seen my instagram. He must like the person I present myself to be, and I don’t lie or have a false narrative there. He calls me and takes the time. 

I’m calming Down considerably through my own logical thought process, and then he asks me out on Sunday for tea and coffee. 

I’m elated. High as a kite.
He says when can he call me to schedule Sunday? I tell him anytime after 8. It’s set.

I’m giddy. 

But now I’m going to be on pins and needles until Sunday. Because I have my little voice in my head, and fear my mother will trigger something ugly in me.

But this is where the years of work come in. I think it out from various perspectives. I remind myself everyone likes different things. Some people who are extremely fit, love women with some meat on their bones, and I don’t have as much meat in me as my silly brain wants to make me think.

I take the time after the “goodnight” to calm myself, and be grateful for the fact I’m having a positive experience. Respectful. Kind. And that’s enough right now.

And here I am sharing this with you. A few years ago I would have already had a run-in with my mom and in a puddle of tears right now. Completely different ball game. There issues are still there but they’ve been soldered and wired and morphed into different parts of my body and the pressure that builds get expressed in healthy productive ways. 

And my BPD makes me a unique and multifaceted individual. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The struggle was worth it in the end and I feel like the exotic wild animal I always was inside. One that should be looked at in awe, respect, and wonder. And adored for being the unique creature I am. 