If I Were Looking for A Man

I'd move to New York.

Maybe I smiled a little more. Maybe I actually flirted [didn't even know I knew how to do it.

Maybe it was just that they didn't know me. They didn't know the workaholic, the anal retentive control freak who feels like if I can't control it logically, then I don't want to be involved.

Maybe I was giving off the scent of a woman in heat or something, whatever it was, the boys were bitting. The Russian. The dude in Stamford. The dude in Greenwich [yeah, maybe it's a sister thing]. The dude at the bar in my hotel. The dude in Times Square off 47th street. And the taxi driver.

I don't think I've had that many bites, like real follow-throughs [actually calling to meet up that same night for drinks], in one week in my life. I met up with one of my high school friends; when she opened the door and saw me, the first thing she said was, "You look so good! You look happy."

The first words out of my mouth [without me even thinking] were, "I am!" Looking happy means so much more to me than just looking good. Happiness has to come from within.

I'm happy with life. I'm happy with my job. I'm happy I'll be back in school this semester. I'm happy I made $6K for doing absolutely nothing [and it was legitimate]. I love that happiness [true happiness] is exuding from the inside and showing outside. I love that things that shouldn't matter to me, no longer matter to me. I love that I am truely happy in my independence, and in all aspects that make up my life. I am happy that I do not have a man. I'm happy that I didn't get the one I wanted, because then I'd be unbalanced [and I would have felt bad flirting with the NYC dudes]. I'm happy that God knows what't best and allows things to be forgotten when they should be winks!

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