Closing the Back Door 

The devil is officially shivering in a snowstorm right now. Yup. You got it. Hell has finally frozen over.

I have done the unthinkable: I have closed my back doors, and not just one or two, but all of them. They are closed and locked with deadbolts and chains -- never to be opened again.

What do I mean?

I went through a minute-long promiscuous phase after splitting from Mr. Ex. By most modern standards, I probably wasn't promiscuous at all -- it's not like I could compete with Samantha from "Sex and the City" for the title of "Most Likely to Do Whomever Wherever," but I wasn't ever lonely. It was an enjoyable time for me. I got to explore a side of myself and the male species that I had not yet experienced, and I learned a lot from that time in my life. The external validation of being desired and courted was quite nice, though I made it clear I wasn't looking for anything permanent. Once a guy started to get too close, I'd cut ties to prevent the chance of things progresses further than I wanted.

But even when I decided that I had my fill, I kept the door to those lovers open -- just in case I were to change my mind or felt my bed getting too cool for my liking. The strength of my faith in God kept me on the straight and narrow, but it didn't prevent me from allowing those past lovers to think that my answer wasn't so much "no" as "not right now."

And then I met Drama Geek. And suddenly, I didn't care so much about the external validation of others. But still, I wasn't in a rush to cut ties. After all, you can't predict the future and it didn't hurt him or me to keep my options open. But the strangest thing began to occur: I started telling my former lovers that I was seeing someone, and that they would not be hearing from me again. Most I told politely to lose my number. A select few, men I would consider true friends, were just told in no uncertain terms that friendship was the only benefit I would offer them from this point on.

As I did it, I was in awe of myself. I never voluntarily discard my options. Like most commitment-phobes, I always leave the back door open; I am always on the lookout for the next best thing. But here I found myself taking a leap of faith and telling these men to not let the door hit  them on the way out.

Reactions were mixed. One laughed at me and told me he'd be counting the days until I came back begging for more (Ha! We'll see who wins that battle of wills!). Another just shrugged, called me smitten and said he'd be around when I had my head on straight. A couple congratulated me on finding happiness and wished me the best.

But one response summed up the spirit behind all the others: I'm in shock. I can't believe I'm hearing this from the "never" girl.

Funny thing is, neither can I.