Dating in my thirties is like a roller coaster. I approach the scheduled date with glee, ensuring I have the right attire for the ride, along with kick ass underwear, minty breath and statement lipstick. The stages of excitement, boredom and apprehension cycle and build, as I wait in line to claim my first experience on the brand new thriller. I fantasise about how I’m going to feel the push and vibration of the ride as it steadily takes off, inch by inch, up the first slope, ensuring I am adequately protected with the supplied safety gear, and all valuables are stored away safely. My heart accelerates along with the pounding in my ears, as I scream in anticipation as we reach the top of the slope and begin to hit top speed, taking the first of many dives twists and loops down. We circle again and again, until finally we come to a stand still. Breathless, I glance beside me and determine whether I remain seated, or make a swift exit; sometimes I am interrupted by outside factors which can force my hand.
It seems that all it takes is one casual message, asking how I am, with a frigging smiley emoji, for me to anticipate another ride on the roller coaster. I suddenly have this burst of energy in a smile and bouncy steps as I hastily ready myself for trivia that evening. It has been many roller coaster rides, over 2 years, since I met him and I still feel this way. My mind is bombarded by internal white noise as I leave my apartment. Should I be considering another roller coaster ride? Why is he messaging me? What am I going to say in response?
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