You’re Still a Super Hot Female*

Unsolicited, I gave a friend my very best advice:

"Listen, if I am overstepping my bounds, I'm sorry.  But I really want to tell you this. You will never be happy by comparing yourself to others or to what other people have.   You will never be happy by constantly saying, "I'll never be happy."  You have got to, got to, got to find love for yourself first and the only place that can come from is inside you.  Who the fuck cares what other people look like, or what they have?  You look great, you ARE great and that is enough. 
Decide today that you are going to be happy.  If you decide to do it, it will follow. 
When you love yourself and find happiness in yourself, that is when others will come to you.
(Don't even try to tell me this is bullshit that is only for single losers**, because I know it is true.)
Go, have fun in [hot vacation destination].  Screw guys and have a crazy time.  But do it because you are an empowered, hot, juicy woman, in love with herself, not because you are trying to find answers [as to why you are single from external sources]."

Surprisingly, she was still talking to me later in the day and asked, "How are things going with the Squash Guy?  And why aren't you blogging about him????" 

I've gotten into the habit of nicknaming behind their back, the guys I become involved with.  I guess it's an arm's length maneuver to prevent attachment.  I'm not even a little bit keen on becoming attached again.  Also, I think it's a helpful tool for my friends; if one happens to be referred to by an actual name, they know he's achieved a certain level of importance.  This guy became known initially as Squash Guy because for our first date he challenged me to a game of squash – but I prefer to call him The Egyptian. 

Actually.  The Egyptian is getting called by his real name.

How things are going?  He's great.  He's kind, he's thoughtful, he always speaks to me with respect.  He cooks, he's tidy, he has a nice set of abs.  Also, well defined delts and triceps.  We play squash, we will cycle together when I stop being afraid of the street.  He runs (I run!).  He checks in to see if I'm okay when I go to the doctor.  He motivates me to go to the gym instead of trying to convince me it's okay to sit on the couch.  His job is cool as hell.  He didn't complain when I wanted to go see art films – not that I was testing him.  And he sat through a documentary on bellydance, just because I wanted to watch it.  He insists on picking me up, even though I could get there myself.  He watches soccer on TV, not every sport ever invented.  He has a cat.  It goes on.  Did I mention he is from Egypt?

That's how it is going with The Egyptian.  Basically, he's fucking awesome.  This is how I know my advice is not just "bullshit people make up to tell to single people so they don't feel like losers."  Because I took my advice, was secure in my status as a whole cake, didn't pay attention to whether or not I was in a cap-R Relationship … that's when The Egyptian showed up.  (Do you hear me, Girl?) 

As to why I'm not blogging about him, it's just like everything else that's personal.  It maybe ends up here, eventually, but sometimes I want to keep it mine for a little while.


* What You Waiting For

** On this point, I have to say that I have never felt like a loser because I am single, nobody should.  Relationships are amazing, but being single is a gift.  Being single has NO bearing on what kind of a person you are!  If someone doesn't want to be with me, that's their fuckin' problem, not mine.  YOU'RE STILL A SUPER HOT FEMALE.  Also, are you calling ME a loser, biatch?  If yes, meet me by the playground so I can kick your ass.

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