I couldn’t have been happier this morning - full of excitement about last night’s “is it a date?”, full of energy for a long walk around the cliffs.
Telling my mother all about him, walking in the sunshine and enjoying the gorgeousness that is the Bondi - Bronte beach walk.
Breakfast above Icebergs, looking at that perfect pool.
Impromptu shopping trip (silk pyjamas! A crochet cardigan!) on the way home.
Reading the paper, doing my washing, and pottering at home before heading to a friend’s to bake Anzac biscuits with her ten year old.
Planning an Arts Festival weekend with my Aunt, supporting my friend in her creative endeavours and watching it all come to fruition - immense pride.
And then sharing a post on instagram with the guy from last night, who promptly responded, but then said he wanted to talk about how the night ended - so we’ll do so tomorrow, and he’ll tell me he really likes me but doesn’t want anything more than a friendship right now, and I’ll be back in this same old heartbroken place that I really thought I’d left behind in my thirties.
A generous pour of Frangelico on ice with lime from the garden, listening to the music he’d recommended in one of the series of mixed signals that our whole communication has been based on.
Getting a reasonable 55% on Moodscope despite the tears in my eyes and the knowledge that it would’ve been 85% had I done it this morning.