I let it fall, my heart

Whenever I go for sometime without blogging here, I feel the need to change the layout. This time around I very cleverly (I think, at least) found a piece of vintage art that suits the feel of what I’m doing here (that is, being a vainglorious, catty little vixen), edited it slightly in Photoshop thanks to the clone brush and added my own blog’s title to the image. I think my little tigress needs a name, though. Any come to mind?

Last evening I spent the fifth night in a row with my new boyfriend, the Fool on the Hill. I say that as though he’s one in a long string of boyfriends (hence the application of new to that sentence), but I haven’t had one in a very long time. As my mind shifts over the time spent together in the last month and a half, I look back further to try and find any sort of comparison and I don’t have one. In the past three years, I haven’t gone on more than two dates with the same person.

You never do forget what it’s like to be in a relationship. It’s sort of like taking a stroll through a neighborhood across town. The landmarks look familiar, but because I haven’t been here in awhile things don’t look quite the same anymore. Nothing stays the same forever and things have been built up/torn down since my last visit. I’m glad that I let go of my heart a little bit enough to give him permission to claim it, but it scares me, knowing where my last stroll led me. I suppose knowing those pitfalls from my last relationship gives me the girl scout skills to avoid those areas, or rather, when I inevitably stumble into them at three o’clock in the morning, drunk and broke, I’ll know better how to handle them. I just hope I do!

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