My sister is 19. So given that I’m nearly 10 years older you would expect it to be me that gives her the advice on love, life and growing up. For the most part I do, and it would appear so far I’ve not done a bad job. However when said sister turns around and makes an observation on your life so apt that you can’t help but wonder ‘When the hell did my baby sister become a woman?’
My name is Tracey and “I’m in love with being in love” (So is Kim Kardashian, my sister informs me. Great comparison- a woman who’s second marriage lasted 79 days). Like any good addict, my obsession causes me pain and anguish but also untold pleasure and unexplainable delirium. I can pinpoint exactly when my addiction started but I cannot tell you when, if ever it will end. I’ve spent years staying in relationships that were so far past their sell by date they had become mouldy and started to smell. Staying with men that were abusive, both physically and mentally. Being involved with men who wore wedding bands, men who had serious issues and ones who had a ticking clock on the available time in the same country as me.
It would be funny if this wasn’t my story.
I don’t have regrets. I wouldn’t be who I am today had I not made the choices I have. And holy cow have I made some damn good choices (Lil’ sister also informs me that my ‘FWB’ looks like Channing Tatum– holla!) but I do also make really bad decisions (sleeping with your boss, it’s like dating don’t 101).
I guess, right now I’m not yet destined to be the stay at home Mum with the white picket fence, dogs and chickens. But I don’t want to be the lonely, nearly 30 year old nomad either. Can I just get a little in between?