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Going through my Bad Romance, I was shattered and reduced to a shell of my former self. Prior to meeting him, I was the epitome of vivacious. I was schooling my cohorts on how a man should treat you, how dates should go—and how to hold yourself with the highest esteem.

I had it all. Confidence never was lacking. If I wanted it—I did my damnedest to get it. If it wasn’t in the cards, then I reshuffled the deck and dealt a new hand. Always played my cards right, when I went all in—I usually hit the jackpot. There were a few mishaps, but nothing I couldn’t recover from.
No love lost, only outcomes I learned from and tried to be better prepared for in the future.
Then I wrote a check that my ass couldn’t cash. I went from playing in the brightly lit casinos where high-rollers were rubbing elbows, to playing at a card table in a back alley with the lowest of lowlifes. I stepped outside my comfort zone and wasn’t careful with the safety of my heart.

I risked my heart, forgot my worth, and played a game that I couldn’t win.

It has been months since I found myself first lying on the floor of despair, only praying that I could have the strength to get up and move on.

Then it happened…

Out of nowhere I met someone. Not just anyone, but him. It was so unexpected.

The connection is inexplicable and I am astonished. He is everything. Beyond being everything that Bad Romance is not, he is so much more than anything I could ever imagine—and then some.

Here I am drowning and he is my breath of fresh air. More than just refreshing. This fresh air is life-saving in a sense. He has brought the old me back to life.

I haven’t fully developed his character in the sense of this blog, he is my little treasure. I am not exactly ready to share it with the world—afraid that I would be speaking too soon. But, today he made me make a promise. This promise then helped me break my writers block, and now I am sharing.

To backtrack a bit–he had listened to brief details of my past, specifically regarding my Bad Romance. The words tumbled out of my mouth just as tears streamed down my face. The conversation we had — explaining where I was when he stumbled upon me — wasn’t planned, calculated, or rehearsed. The conversation took place on a park bench, late on a summer’s night; it was me in my rawest, most emotional and vulnerable state.

He listened without much to say.

The amount of baggage I left at his feet was tremendous. A lot to carry and help unload.

I fully expected for him to run–not walk–away from me as quickly as possible. The time span of this ‘relationship’ is short at best.

But instead, we spent the whole following day together. Hand in hand, not yet processing but not forgetting the conversation that took place.

On this day spent together, he made me promise that no matter what our outcome—I will never go back.

Not just in the sense of returning to my ex, but more in the sense of moving forward. I should only get better from this point on.

He has revived the confident, joyful, absolutely amazing me. I once again remember what this is supposed to be like. What my love life should entail. The ‘me’ that was lost… is now back, firmly in my palms.

I solemnly vowed to him, but more importantly to myself—to never forget again. Never forget what I deserve and never lose myself, especially to someone so undeserving.

I am taking a turn—and it is something that will not go unnoticed, especially in my writing. There is more of him to come.

My ‘breath of fresh air’ has my breathing deeper and inhaling all of the goodness that life has to offer.