Dating myself

This is the story of how I stole my ex’s hobby, and started dating me.

Years ago, I had a lover who joked that their hobby was taking me to beautiful places and telling me that they loved me.

…Except it wasn’t a joke. They would plan these elaborate, customized date days of postcard views and perfect meals. Inconceivably, these days would end with me falling asleep in the light of a literal palace.

Clearly, this was a fairytale romance… but we all know that fairy tales are actually grim morality lessons.

After a couple of years, the fairy tale revealed itself to be a rollercoaster — one with highs I learned not to trust, followed by emotionally apocalyptic lows. The ride started taking a toll on my mental and physical health, so I ended things.

I’m no stranger to grieving the end of a relationship. I literally wrote a book about it. I watched my brain split, turning everything black and white, good and bad. My mind combed back through memories, remembering red flags and telling me I should have ended things sooner.

But I know it’s not black and white, but rather shades of complex, nuanced grey pastel rainbow. I know it was valuable, and I learned so, so much. I refuse to throw the baby out with the bathwater, so I go panning for gold in the…