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  • Writer's picturecocodensmore

Lovers come and go, but friends stay.

February 10, 2023

Superbowl Sunday marks one year from the day I met Don, at Tugboat Annie’s on the Olympia waterfront.

I can remember so vividly, driving to Olympia, it was rainy. As always, I was full of hopeful expectations. I don’t get nervous about meeting someone, it’s not that. I get a fluttery feeling in my stomach, just anticipating all the wondrous possibilities that may lie ahead. The thought things might be a crash and burn disaster tries to overtake, but I push it out. I’m always hopeful at the outset. And why shouldn’t I be? That is how I want to live, full of hopeful expectations for good things. When I live like that, I am often rewarded with those exact good things. Not always. But often.

I’ve written so much about Don and me, if you keep up, you know the entire story of my hard fought growth and development during that short seven months. In August, our relationship transitioned to friendship. He remains in my life, attentive and responsive and always kind and incredibly supportive.

I’m so very blessed to attract the people into my life that I do. More often than not, the men I connect with online become incredibly loving and supportive friends. That’s testimony to the fact I’m mentally healthier and stronger than I can ever recall, and I’m connecting with men in a similar place in their lives. It's rather magical to have done the work and finally see things come together as they have. Quite miraculous, actually.

When I’m about to meet someone new, I am always hopeful of the wondrous possibilities that may lie ahead. But there is one thought that I never push away, and that is what if this doesn’t work out? What if this isn’t The Guy? And then I smile, because it doesn’t matter so much if I ever meet The Guy. What matters is that I develop enduring friendships with interesting, intelligent, witty, kind, generous, loving men. And that is because of what I know to be true to my core.

Lovers come and go, but friends stay.



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