Next week, I’m going to Savannah with my sister for a little mini-vacation, and I couldn’t be more excited. I haven’t been since May 2021, just before I started my nursing school journey (how have I already been a nurse for six months??), so it’s about time that I return to one of my favorite cities in the U.S. Now I would be lying if I said that was my only motive for choosing Savannah, though; the person I’ve been dating for the last three weeks is there for a whole month for work, so it’s a pretty big bonus for me.

Beach weather and great company?? Sign me up.

It’s kind of weird dating again, especially since I’ve been purposefully single since 2019, but it’s been an oddly enjoyable experience, contrary to a similar period in my mid-20s, which consisted of a lot of bland and sometimes terrible dates (the face-five guy comes to mind). Maybe it’s because I wasn’t trying to start anything serious? I was *gasp* having fun??

And then I met J.

I’d like to say that I was more aware of how good a person J was when I finally met him; after all, this was a guy who tailored our date around my preferences and work schedule and even offered to postpone our date until after I dealt with the emotions from the Covenant School shooting (I knew two of the adults who were murdered). I knew that he was definitely more nervous than I was, and I wasn’t expecting to have anything, other than maybe a “I had a good time,” result from our date.

Then three weeks later, we’ve had two additional dates, one taking an 11.09 mile hike and another spending the whole day at Land Between the Lakes, and we’re already planning a trip to Asheville, NC. We talk every single day, and I feel like I can be my complete self around him, uninhibited and real.

It’s a pretty great feeling, as you might imagine.

I’m trying to be smart about all of this, though. The majority of my relationship history involves me moving too quickly to the next step, ultimately resulting in what can only be called self-sabotage, and I don’t want that to happen with J. So far, things are paced perfectly; it took us to our third date to finally kiss, and we’ve been able to get to know each other without sex getting in the way, which I think was my first major issue when dating in the past. I’m not shaming anyone for having sex on the first date and/or testing sexual compatibility before deciding on an actual relationship. Lord knows I used it as a litmus test in my youth. But I know myself now – I want sex to complement an emotional attachment, which for me takes time.

Time.

Something that I always kinda took for granted, even a few years ago. It’s not like I’m going to die tomorrow or anything, but working in the CVICU and just getting older makes me appreciate the types of things I’m experiencing now: love, friendship, a career that means something to me, self worth …

And I’m going to celebrate it all in Savannah. Every single minute I browse through shops and tour the historic district is going to be filled with the appreciation of the life I have now, one that I never thought I would have but so desperately wanted.

Life is pretty amazing.

But here’s the thing: I am happy. Legitimately happy. I have great friends and family, a career that means something to me, and a guy who makes me laugh. I can appreciate what all of this means now, something that I would’ve taken for granted even a few years ago.