Laws of Attraction

A few weeks ago, I was reminded of why I hate driving: I got a ticket for a moving violation. My crime? Code 4-1444: failure to stop or yield. Apparently the crime rate in NJ has plummeted enough that cops can spare time to catch the true diving menaces to the society. All sarcasm aside, I was (still am) pretty upset about it because I really can do without points on my license, hiked insurance rates, or a trip to the courthouse. No good ever comes from it.

Then something happened the following weekend, and I realized that maybe I really am guilty of failing to stop or yield. That Saturday night, I ran into an old friend that’s newly single and comes packed with enough drama to feed NBC studios. After skipping past small talk, we caught up over drinks and acknowledged the rising palpable sexual tension between us. As often is the case, when chemistry enters the room, logic usually flies out the window. Despite his attempts, I practiced good judgment and ended the night with a platonic kiss on the cheek. Had I not, I knew no good would have came of it.

After scouring the dating scene for nearly a (gasp) decade, I’ve finally (finally) learned to stop myself from pursuing the guys carrying red flags – you know, those rooting for their home country of Douchebag. I may not be the prototype driver, but when it comes to maneuvering around my heart, no one else knows the way better than I do. Admittedly, I have been reckless with my heart in the past by giving it to the wrong guys, but I’ve already paid the fine for that.

Just when I thought I was ready to buckle up and settle down, I’ve realized that I’m not quite there yet. I thought I was done kissing frogs in the pursuit of my happily ever after, but I need to ask time to pause and slow down… for just a bit more. I’ve learned not to rush into things because obviously no good ever comes from it.