I started writing a dating blog. I blame that project for taking me away from this space. Over there, I throw GIFs around like they are candy, and write humorously about how terrible I am at dating. It’s fun and cathartic, and my writing partner is such a beautiful light in my life, it’s been nothing but joyful.
Dating y’all, it’s a thing. I am going to be 28 at the end of this year, and I am endlessly single. Eternally single. Painfully single. Remove the rain cloud and tiny violin from your eyes, because I am not sad about this. I am not at a loss for attention from men. I bat my eyelashes and say the right things. I ask them questions and make them feel important. I know how to woo a fella, and never feel lost in how to reel them in. But then they are there. And they want me. And they open their hearts up and everything inside of me recoils.
A few years ago my heart was shattered. Not just gently bruised like lost puppy love, we’re talking broken.
Baseball meets window broken.
Champagne glass broken.
Lost lake in a rainstorm broken.
Contrary to what Don’t Date Us implies, I absolutely want to be in love again. I adore holding hands with that person who makes your heart pitter patter. I am a sucker for comfortable mornings with homemade breakfast, sitting quietly over dog-eared books. I am jealous of people who shop for vegetables together at the farmers market, and then pinch myself when I find myself wanting a romantic comedy romance. That’s not real life.
Broken hearts are callused.
Already known for my stoicism, I’ve now put up so many walls that every single opportunity is met with raised eyebrows and red flags. Think of an excuse, and I’ve claimed it. Any hint of distrust, and I magnify it to the tenth degree. There’s never going to be a fella who loves me for a, b & c. I’m difficult. I am selfish. I don’t want to lose my independence. I want to chase them and have them fall for me, and when they do… well, I disappear into the shadows. It’s much easier to hold them all at arms length, and tangle myself up in a myriad of different situations. A single person to hold my heart? That is far too risky.
So yes, I supposed this eternally single 27-year-old has some issues. Pretty big issues. Until I want to deal with them, I will date and get into trouble. I will craft love triangles and fling with inappropriate men. I will live it up and hope that one day, in all of my chaos, I will accidentally find myself letting my guard down. If only for a little bit.
Carrot, Kale & Brussels Hash
Because I’m a crazy and like to make my life one big challenge, I recently did the Whole30. Don’t worry about researching it. Basically you just remove everything from your diet aside from vegetables, eggs and meat. Seeing as I don’t eat meat, I settled on 30 days of eggs and vegetables. As you can imagine, this got dull after a while. But making a hash was my go to. It was easy and delicious and all you have to do is pop an egg on top. Everything is better with an egg.
- 1 tsp coconut oil
- 1/2 onion, chopped
- 1 garlic clove, minced
- 3 medium-sized carrots, grated
- 1/2 bunch of kale, de-stemmed and chopped
- A handful or two of Brussels sprouts, roughly chopped
- 1 tsp soy sauce
- Dash of salt
- Dash of curry powder
- 1-2 eggs, depending on how hungry you are
This is basically the easiest of recipes. Chop/grate/mince all of your veggies. Warm up the coconut oil, and add in minced garlic and chopped onions. Once that smells like perfection (my favorite smell in all the world), add in the Brussels. Saute those until they are soft and add in the carrots. I grate mine, because I like the texture. Do whatever tickles your fancy. Add in the salt, pepper and curry powder. Mix in and then add in the soy sauce. Lastly, when you’re about done with everything, add in the kale. Let it wilt and then remove from heat.
I cook my eggs sunny side up, because a broken yolk is one of my favorite foods. But if that’s not your jam, do whatever style egg you like. Either way, pop it on top and call it a day. This is a hearty breakfast that is perfect for a slow morning.