Steph Not Stephanie

One of my oldest friends — and very vocal supporter of this blog — has been going on a lot of Tinder dates lately. I am trying to convince him to write a guest post for me:

But maybe people do want to read that shit. Yes, the tragic stories are hilarious, but I’ve also written more serious stuff here that has been very well received. So I am happy, dammit, and I hope you’ll be happy with me.

This is a different kind of happiness for me. Don’t get me wrong, I have been happily single, have happily dated, and I’ve had scenarios where I saw extreme emotional highs (which, of course, came with extreme emotional lows). But I’m prone to anxiety, especially around relationship stuff, and there simply is none here. It’s very new (and lovely). I just feel comfortable. I know that word seems a bit underwhelming, but after all the work it has taken me just to feel comfortable in my own skin, finding someone with whom I am completely at ease comes as a complete shock. Very welcome (and some might say long overdue), but shocking nonetheless.

I still have all sorts of anxiety in other areas, especially with a lot of things that have been changing in my life lately. I’m working through the process of figuring out (again) what I want to be when I grow up, my schedule went from the most flexible to feeling like I don’t own most of my time, and I’m a bit untethered in a few areas. But for the most part, I am dealing with it (with my very helpful friends and JB talking me off the ledge when necessary).

Still, even with all of this other stuff going on, I have this little ball of happiness that I can feel radiating out from the centre of my being. Maybe that’s cheesy, but that’s okay. I’m happy, and I hope you like to read that shit, because there’s plenty more where that came from.