So I’ve got baggage. But it’s all cute and it matches, and that’s
the main thing, right? “Lessons learned the hard way” take up most of
the suitcases, the ex-boyfriends are stuffed in the steamer trunk, and
my medication and bipolar disorder fit snugly in the carry-on. And I
can’t ditch that one at the check-in counter.

This is not the life I bargained for when I called off my wedding at
22. Before that time, I’d had about 3 boyfriends and never “just dated”
anyone. I figured I’d just have a few more and find the right person in
much the same undramatic fashion as I found my ex-fiance.

That? Did not happen.

Since then I’ve had a few proper boyfriends, about eleventy-three
dates, and one complete and utter nervous breakdown (which, if you ask
me, is a great way to get three weeks off work when your shrink signs
the right papers). I’ve dated doctors, a chef, a computer programmer, a
fireman, several cute military men, and an engineer. One said he loved
me, one tried to hit me, one almost broke my bed and two broke my heart.

I write openly. This blog has my heart all over its figurative
sleeve. Some of it’s snark, some of it’s sad, some of it’s silly. All
of it is real - and you can believe that if you can believe my English
professor who once told me that my writing skills do not lie in
fiction. I was informed that my characters’ dialogue was neither
believable nor realistic, and I ought to stick to my strengths in
academic and research writing.

So every post in here that recaps the events of my life is as honest
and true-to-experience as I can capture without carrying a video camera
around everywhere to remind me of exact dialogue and so on. Because
really, you can’t make this stuff up.