I have a confession and those of you who follow me on Instagram may have twigged by now…
Nope, I haven’t had a mental breakdown…well not quite anyway!
Nope, I’m not pregnant (thank goodness)
Nope, I’ve not killed someone at work and writing this from a prison cell (that’s probably the most likely of these three options)
But yep, this serial failed dater actually has a lovely, legitimate boyfriend. Sound the fanfair!!
To those of you who have never read my blog before this might not seem like a fanfair type event. Everyone has relationships don’t they? But after three long years of being single and dating a myriad of idiots, knobheads, commitment phobes and emotionally unavailable men I finally seem to have found a good one. The coveted needle in the haystack.
It was a marvel that I ever met this guy in the first place though as I cancelled all my dating apps (yes, again) and declared that I would be single for a year without looking for ‘the one’ (yes, again) after I got screwed over by a deceivingly ‘nice’ guy (yes, again).
There was, luckily, one guy who slipped through the net though and despite all my new promises to myself we kept chatting and eventually managed to meet up and the rest, as they say, is history.
Now we have been dating for three whole months and I think I’m getting the hang of how to have a boyfriend at 32 and when there’s children involved. Yet another learning curve to make my way up but I’m enjoying it so far.