Have you ever tread the waters of uncertainty? The slow transition from one unknown to another myriad of mysterious rules and roles? The place in between?

I am constantly trying to level up. My mental peace, my self-awareness, my adaptability, my happiness. I am teetering between who I was and who I could be. I’m trying to climb the mossy cliffs of what I want (which is always harrowingly out of reach) while focusing on how to not lose my footing. All this while stretching precariously to grab ahold of my next intended finger hold. I slip. A lot. Sometimes I just wish to let go. Free fall into the oblivion. Let the earth have a go.

Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Nor is that the topic of our discussion today. Today we delve into how to not be an option. I feel many women tend to fall into this deceptive pattern of availability. We wait, unhurriedly, on the sidelines of love. Waiting for our turn to be seen. Our knight to come and offer a hand of invitation, be it to the dance floor or the bedroom. There, amongst the hardness of the bleachers, musty smelling and dimly lit, we wait… ever so patiently on the sidelines of disparaging, waiting to be… to be chosen. Yet, sitting there, we are simply options. Place holders. Reliable and doe eyed. Desperate.

My new plan is fuck the sidelines. I will dance by myself. I will choose myself. I offer myself the lacy, gloved hand of priority. I can no longer stay in the darkness of “what if” and “maybe he will!” I mean, holy fuck! What a lonely place that is! Barren of confidence and sparkle. Nah, I’m good with that chapter. I’m just gonna close that entire book entirely and place it back on the dusty shelf from whence it came. Good riddance.

Ladies… You are not an option. You are THE choice! If that is unclear, unseen or misinterpreted then he is NOT for you. Hold out. Hold on. For fucks sake hold up (two glorious middle fingers) and walk away.

Yours always, while dancing my ass away from that noise,

CR