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BPD dissociative DisorderSchool is going.  I’m doing quite well, but the classes I’m taking are college writing and Math.  So they were going to go well. Should help pad my GPA for when the going gets tough.  I did realize, much to my delight, that now that I’m full-time I’m eligible for the Dean’s List.  I look forward to my placement this trimester.  You hear confidence because there is no reason I won’t.

I enjoy my Math class being in an actual classroom.  I think I might make a point of one in-class a trimester.  It gets me out of the house in a healthy setting and fashion.  I’m in a place where I’m looking to meet people for various reasons.  Don’t look at me like that, I don’t sleep with every hand I shake.  Not even a notable fraction.

Speaking of… I’ve been on a few first and follow-up dates.  I’ve been stood up a few times.  I had one guy who looked promising end up not being promising.  That sucked.  Though the fashion in which that spiraled out, his loss.  I just recently had another first date also promising with a second date on the horizon.  I still maintain I’m looking for a best friend first and foremost.  The rest is just what it is or isn’t.

Speaking of best friends there is someone a true best friend whom has been there for me as long as I’ve known him and he is so exactly perfect in what I need and what I’m looking for.  But it isn’t to be.  At least I still have that friendship and he is the standard I will hold every other guy on the planet to.  But sometimes… I really wish he could be.  I know I see him as a white knight but in over 2 years and countless tests I’ve never been presented with a hint of a reason not to.  Even Pat supports this friendship though the depths of it are mine and mine alone.  I assume Pat knows I have feeling there.  I don’t have to discuss it with him.  Pat knows my heart.  But even without official discussion, Pat, if he should read this, is nodding along in agreement.  He knows how deeply I care for this person.  And he knows this person is good for me.  And he supports this friendship like he supports me breathing oxygen.  I write this in fear that the other person could someday read this and question if I can be trusted.  I write this knowing trust would never be betrayed.  I write this knowing I wish he would read it and find support where I’m willing to bet he never suspected.  I can’t know for sure but it’s a safe assumption.  I know my husband and my husband knows me.  I am great with secrets but Pat is great with me.

So I dally on with first dates, last dates.  First kisses, last kisses.  Being stood up, and losing hours to unexpected conversation.  Comparing them all to the one who won’t be.

And I’m happy with Pat.  I know the past decade has been rocky, but this feels right.  Not because I get to fuck around, because I’m not, but because this brings me a spark to Pat.  If anything, in my quest to show Pat he is my number one man, I’m looking for new and exciting ways to show him my affections.  In his quest to remind me what I have in him, he’s being the man I always wanted but never realized I had.  He would be doing this anyway, I would be doing this anyway, but this element of the open marriage keeps that spark lit as we are on our toes to never forget the partner that really matters.

We’ve been to the art museum twice, once with the 10-year-old.  He took me to see The Princess Bride on the big screen.  The local theater showed it one showing only.  We giggled together in advance of the scenes we knew were coming.  We spoke along in parts, not the only one in a theater full of fans to do so.  We are going to an art gallery for Valentine’s day.  I have the most romantic thing I’ll ever pull off, planned for late valentines, early anniversary.  I’m excited to romance Pat and be romanced by Pat.

And yes, I’m excited to be in the dating world, even when it has me not wanting to leave my bed from time to time because I got dumped in the most childish way ever.  But I’m out there having fun.  And I don’t mean *nudge nudge wink wink* fun.  I mean the fun of getting out there and meeting people and just leaving the damn house, fun.

Feeling desired and attractive and young and vibrant helps too.  This helps my self-confidence more than it hurts it.  I can’t take getting stood up too personally.  But I’m actually starting to learn I might actually be kind of not ugly.

And that’s been 30 years in coming.

So if you want to know what I’ve been up to in the new year, I’d have to say the answer is reading, studies, and dates.  Good and bad.

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