I manifested a man.
Like, I didn’t create him out of thin air or anything. I’m pretty sure he existed before I met him, as he seems pretty established in the world. But after months and months of disappointments, after months and months of realizing that I needed to learn to let go, after months and months of self-flagellation over what happened with Bot, Metalhead and the multitude of fiascos I’ve been keeping company with, I finally sat down, I lit a few candles, and I told the Universe what I wanted. I explained it so explicitly, and then closed it by saying, “Oh, and he needs to be so awesome that I won’t be able to find a reason to say no when you send him my way.”
Because they have been sending men my way. And each, one after the other, had a major dealbreaker (or four) that I would either have to compromise on, or would need to walk away from. I decided that I didn’t want to compromise anymore. I mean, what’s the point in manifestation if you have to compromise? So I told myself that I wasn’t settling anymore. I wasn’t settling, in any regard. He needed to be open-minded (so open-minded that I needed to be able to continue to write my blog and do my metaphysics without judgment). He needed to be positive. Accepting. But he needed to be self-sufficient. He needed to be capable of returning affection and emotion – someone as into me as I am into him. In essence, he needed to be the best qualities of the ones I’ve dated in the past, all combined into one individual. And to top it all off, he needed to be healthy, good looking (because I’m not compromising in the looks department anymore, either), and, as I’ve said, have his shit together so well that I absolutely could not say no.
I know I sound picky. I am picky. But when you manifest something, you put that request out there, and then you believe, with every ounce of confidence, that you’re going to have it. I figured: May as well go whole hog with this one, and I did that. I didn’t know how long it would take. I didn’t know where it was going to come from. But I knew I was going to have it. Eventually. Somehow.
So, long story short, this guy shows up. He really is what I asked for… at least at first glance. I’m a little amazed by the ease of the whole thing, but I go with it.
We talk online a bit, it moves to texting. From texting it moves into a meet up for drinks after work one evening. Drinks go so well that it turns into dinner. We plan our second date. Dinner and drinks on his side of the bridge, in Dunedin, where I’ve never been before. We kiss. Alright, we make out awhile at the end of that one. Still nothing terribly unusual. We’re moving kind of fast, but it feels right, and I’m still feeling pretty good about it. We talk daily, most times every day. The enthusiasm levels are off the chart… I haven’t see this much effort put forth since Bot. And I’m liking it. Also my psychics like him, which is another good sign.
I take down the profiles. Not for him. I want to be clear about that. I take them down because the drama was getting irritating. I have ten weeks worth of Internet Dating Escapades to get me by. It’s a nice vacation from the idiocy. Then I’ll decide whether to continue that or do something else. Anyway…
We plan our third date very shortly after the second. This time I’m going to his place to watch This Is The End. Because we were out so late on the second date, and because I had had issues with finding a hotel in Dunedin if I needed one, I booked one on his side. That way I had a place to sleep if I needed it. No irresponsibility on my part. The hotel I booked had a mini golf course. We were going to play, time permitting. I also discovered that it had a Jacuzzi. Again, long story short, we had dinner. Drinks. Back to his place. Movie. More drinks. Making out on the love seat. He showed me where he lived – his dock, pool, etc. Went back to my hotel. More drinks. Decided to find the Jacuzzi. Walked around for awhile, never found it, back to my room. More shots. Made out on the bed. But this time, it went further. This time we slept together. He stayed. He was very hung over the next morning. Like to the point of illness. I felt bad about it… especially since we were both heading out to work and he was dragging ass while I was reveling in the afterglow of multiple orgasms.
So, it’s been several days since. We still text every day. He’s still initiating it, and I’m enthusiastically answering. Because when I told him on Thursday that I liked him, I meant it. Granted, I was very drunk… I am honest when I am drunk, though sometimes too much so. I won’t say that the honesty doesn’t worry me to an extent, it does, I have a very bad habit of saying too much, too quickly. Also, three dates may not be a big deal, but it is really, really, REALLY unusual for me to sleep with someone I’m interested in (in terms of long term potential) before I get the long term commitment (and this would be why I am still in single digits – bedroom partner wise). I like the guy. I proved it. Perhaps a little too enthusiastically.
Afterward I saw my favorite psychic. The one who has been the most accurate. I told her what I had done. I told her what we did, reiterating that I was concerned that I said too much and moved too fast. She reminded me that if I manifested all of this, then it’s my job to make sure I continue to do it. If I start being negative, then things are going to GET negative. Quickly. She read the cards. And then she asked me what I was afraid of… if this situation felt differently than the others, then how do I know FOR SURE that I fucked it up by opening my big mouth? I got it… I didn’t… I was assuming things based on past behavior.
Bottom line: Manifestation is absolutely real.
If your thoughts, your confidence, your desires, and your… determination… to make something happen gets you somewhere positive, it can, at the same time, take you in the opposite direction based on the things that you think, the things that you feel. Amber, the psychic, told me I needed to be careful – use psychic protection. I didn’t understand why when she said this… now I do. Because I am prone to becoming a victim of my own insecurities. That has to stop. Because when I do that, then it gets out of hand in a hurry and, ultimately, I am the one that loses.
So, I’m letting it be what it is. I’m letting it develop. I am, for once, sitting back and letting things happen, believing that what is happening is, ultimately, for my highest good. When we are together, we have fun. Uncomplicated, unquestionable fun. And for the moment, that’s all that matters.
If and when it needs to be something else, then it will happen naturally. Without effort. Because what is supposed to happen, happens… easily and effortlessly. And because we believe in the possibilities. And because we stop making things harder than what they’re supposed to be.