It’s a wonderful time of year. I love the changing seasons. The leaves letting go and fluttering on the wind. The air so fresh and clean. The pumpkins and apple cider overflowing from farm stands and grocery store fronts. It’s all very warm and cozy and by my way of thinking wonderfully romantic. It makes me want to walk hand in hand on a quaint tree-lined, leaf covered path with my beau. It makes me want to cuddle up on a porch swing at sunset drinking cocoa with a faded quilt draped across our laps. It makes me want to go on haunted hayrides. After all, the fun part of haunted hayrides is the long wait in line in the cold night air, snuggling up to your honey and pretending to be afraid when the actor with Michael Myers mask comes at you with a chainsaw. It’s all very lovely and intoxicating and wildly romantic! It’s magical! I love fall! Oh wait…I’m single…Damn. Having fairly recently come out of a relationship with a man who was every single thing I wanted and who quite successfully managed to pulverize my heart into dust particles, perhaps I shouldn’t be waxing romantic these days. I really should keep my head out of the clouds and my feet on the ground and stop daydreaming of such things. After all, it’s not like I’ve had the best of luck where knights in shining armor are concerned. Admittedly, I have always had a thing for borderline bad boys who aren’t really bad, per se, but have a certain air of mystery about them. Tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, and April melts to the floor. Think, Robert Beltran or Jonathan Frakes. My first encounter with someone with that mysterious air about them was such a colossal failure on all fronts that I’ll spare you the dramatic recounting of it. The second encounter was slightly better and lasted close enough to ten years to say it was a ten year relationship from start to finish. However for all intents and purposes my first name may as well have been Doormat to him, and by the time I really figured that out we had already made vows and exchanged rings and made it more permanent than it was ever meant to be and three years later threw the rings at each other and went our separate ways….sort of. For some unknown reason he still thinks he’s entitled to park his big ole feet on top of my face and demand things…hideous waste of energy on his part. But that’s neither here nor there. Then there was the earlier mentioned relationship with the person who was so perfect in every way that I was convinced I had dreamed him out of thin air and into life, and we had a glorious run for awhile. Then it became apparent that he was telling me one thing and living another and even after I knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt I continued to wait for him, unable to let go. He eventually obliterated my heart, leaving me convinced I simply wouldn’t survive. But I did survive, and tried to rebuild and move on and then….there he was again….also apparently under the notion that I could continually be used and abused in any way he saw fit, dredging up all the wounds in the process. Aren’t I lucky? I really should consider changing my name from Doormat back to April one of these days. So here it is fall, and the mushy sappy side of me is in full bloom! All the romantic autumn activities are calling my name (not to mention the holidays looming on the horizon, taunting my lack of relationship). The question now remains, do I foray back into the dating world or do I recall past events and be content to live alone with a minion of cats for the rest of my life? Do I let them win and control me, stifle me, and push me down into obscurity or do I continue on, chasing dreams and destiny with all I’ve got? Either way, I’m so done with mysterious bad boys! Who knows, maybe I’ll stumble across a genuine nice guy in time to make it to the haunted hayrides. Maybe I’ll just have my head a little in the clouds and my feet just slightly off the ground for now.