 This post probably won't have my usual verve … I had a bit of a distressing weekend – one of my sweet little dogs had to be admitted to the animal hospital because of severe stomach problems that escalated to the point of uncontrollable vomiting and bloody diarrhea.
I have written in this space before how abnormally attached I am to both my dogs, so when Sammi Sue got so sick so fast in the space of two days, I was beside myself. And of course, children and dogs only need to go to the emergency room in the middle of the night, so I was awake for almost 48 hours straight. Stressed and emotionally raw much? I’m still recovering.
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 Here’s the thing with me and dating: I don’t want to put forth the effort required to make it happen.
I am fine – happy, even – as a single gal. Sure, it would be nice to have some male companionship from time to time, but I don’t have any burning desire to seek it out. If it happens organically, that’s dandy. If it doesn’t, well then I have plenty of other stuff to keep me busy and fulfilled. (Get your mind out of the gutter! Oh wait, that was me. Ahem.) Several of my friends have encouraged me to join the online dating services Match.com, PlentyofFish.com or eHarmony.com. But that involves work. I don’t have the time or energy to determine the fucktard quotient of the guys who contact me, or vet hundreds of profiles to figure out whose pictures are from 15 years and 50 pounds ago. Plus, I know from past experience that you cannot judge chemistry potential until you meet in person. But sit me at a table and ask me to chat with a captive audience of 12 guys, all close to my age, each for only six minutes, then note on a sheet of paper whether I want to further the conversation with any of them, all for the price of a meal? DONE. I did speed dating once about eight years ago and wrote a column about it for Business First. I remember it being largely a waste of time in terms of dating prospects, but high on entertainment value, so when a friend asked me to go with her to an event for singles aged 38 to 50 this week, I was all, what the hell? It can't be any worse than what I am doing now, which is exactly nothing.  Rejection.
Turns out that I am just NOT a fan. I know, I know… who is, right? *SIGH* I’ve been reminded on a couple of fronts during the past month exactly how much it can suck ass, and how quickly– no matter how strong or confident I am in my everyday life – it can bring out my petulant inner 3-year-old. And she is a prissy, weepy, self-centered lil’ brat, that one. I’ve written in this space before about how much work it seems to take to attain an active social life as a single, 40-something non-drinker. I’ve lost my key social touchstones to their own recent lifestyle changes (one BFF got married and had a youngun; the other took on a new, super demanding career), so left to my own devices, I’m flailing a bit. Since mid-summer, I’ve been grateful to regularly hook up with a new girlfriend who I adore more every time I see her. We are so much alike, it’s kinda scary. We've bonded over the precariousness of the local social scene, and we both have been actively seeking out things to do together. I am so lucky to have found her (or that she found me, whatevs). She is turning out to be a fantastic wingman on so many levels. This past weekend, my new bestie invited me out to watch the UofL game and then wander the Highlands Festival with her and a random assortment of our friends and acquaintances. It was a beautiful day, and we had a great time together.  So it was September of last year when I formed my LLC and officially launched my freelance writing and media consulting business. I freelanced as a sideline for about six months before I was able to quit my corporate job and become a full-time entrepreneur.
It was the single best career move I ever made. I. Love. My. Job. Since this month is my official one-year anniversary, I’ve been doing a little reflecting on how things have gone so far. It hasn’t all been sunshine and roses, but for the most part, it has gone much better than I could have ever imagined. One of the smartest things I did in preparation for starting a business was informal market research. In other words, I asked a shit-ton of questions, specifically of other writers and consultants who are making a really good living working for themselves. Their advice was priceless, and I continue to put much of it into practice every day. In recent months, several of my friends have taken notice of my success (not to mention my unabashed joy) since going out on my own, and they have asked me to share how I did what I did, and continue to do what I do. Since similar counsel was given so freely to me, I am more than happy to pay it forward.  One of my favorite classic movies is the 1958 comedy, “Auntie Mame,” with Rosalind Russell. Her character’s mantra throughout the movie is one I have tried to live by over the years myself, with varying degrees of success.
Mame believes that “life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.” She spends most of her time encouraging everyone around her to “live, live, live!” I gotta say… up until this past year and a half, I had spent a good chunk of my life simply surviving and not really living. My focus was always on taking care of other people, making sure bills were paid and waiting for the next shoe to drop … and I fully expected said shoe to fall on my head. That was an exhausting way to exist, and as a result, I realize now that I didn’t allow myself to properly acknowledge or celebrate so many moments of joy. I missed out on a lot of really good stuff because I was too busy dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. A family crisis last April -- and celebrating my milestone 40th birthday last July -- woke me up to the idea that survival is not good enough for me anymore. I decided that I want to be the best possible version of myself, and that I want to live life to the fullest every single day. So I set about to make some changes, which led to a full-on reinvention. You can read about some of that process here and here. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
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