Touched
A year ago I thought I’d never let a man come near me, never let his hand brush my back, or his breath graze my cheek… until one did.
I awoke in a groggy haze, my head heavier than it was yesterday, my heart just a little bit lighter. As my eyes slowly registered the room around me, with the soft light of the morning spilling under the door, a smile formed at the side of my mouth as I remembered where I'd been just a few hours ago. I bit my lower lip and let the smile break loose. No doubt he'd be up before me. I reached for my phone on the nightstand to see if he texted. He did.
It was dinner, a movie, and a 2 a.m. hour-long drive back home, and it was everything I needed at just the right time. Like everything the last 2 years, each moment in the metronome of healing presented itself in perfect time.
Moving past fear.
I had been on Hinge for a while, passing on every man I saw, feeling instantly unsafe, each one another flag more red than the last.
They were religious smokers, frat boys, and jokers, hundreds of men who looked just like the ones in my comments who had insisted my value was only ever to be in what I might offer them in bed.
