Nick and I started to watch Sex and the City.  I have seen the entirety of the six seasons 3 times.  I had the pink velour box set and only got rid of it when I moved to Barbados because I didn’t have a DVD player or know anyone that did.  I watched the originals on VHS.  Nick asked whether I could relate to the story lines of being single, hanging with girlfriends, and maneuvering the world of dating.  Relate to it?!  I could write a book about it.

The main characters of Sex and the City were designed so that women in their thirties could connect to a part of each of them – I certainly could.  I have always been a hard ass like Miranda – blunt but an honest friend.  Free-spirited like Samantha.  Neurotic like Carrie. A hopeless romantic like Charlotte, who says in the first season, “I have been dating since I was fifteen.  I am exhausted.  Where is he?!”

Twenty-five years later, the hopeless romantic that I am, has met Nick. Despite the trials and tribulations of dating for decades, with a few failed relationships thrown in, I knew that he was out there.  But did I always believe it?  Absolutely not.  Is that why he took about three decades to appear?  I wonder.

Sheri's vision board circa 2018

My efforts over the years to conjure up “The One” were numerous.  I would always wish that I would meet someone when I blew out my birthday candles.  I saw a hypnotist.  I made vision boards, and created a list of experiences that I would like to have with a partner.  I worked through a guidebook with one of my closest friends, named “Calling in The One” by Katherine Woodward Thomas.  That friend met her fiancé, and I ended up losing her friendship.  The book itself was amazing, with exercises to forgive and make room in your life for love.  It was designed as a seven-week course, and it took me closer to 10 years.

In that time, I clung to stories of a work colleague who didn’t meet her husband until her forties, a friend’s aunt who met the love of her life in her fifties, and someone’s father who met his soul mate in his seventies.  When would it be my time?

Each year passed and to blunt the pain of not fulfilling that wish, I would tell myself that it didn’t matter.  That I was fine by myself.  That I was good single…and I was.

This past weekend marked a year ago that I met Nick, and it was cause for celebration.  We went out for dinner like adults, and then to a rave like teenagers.  Jumped in the bouncy castle at his nephew’s birthday party like kids.  We spent time reflecting and talking as equals.  He is a true partner.

In some ways, it does not matter that it took us so long to meet.  We have determined that we wouldn’t have been suitable when we were younger; in fact, we may not have even liked each other.  Both striving in our careers, a bit anxious and a lot intense, we may not have had the capacity to love each other the way that we do now.

The creator of Sex and the City, Michael Patrick King, states that the most significant, challenging relationship of all is the one that you have with yourself and if you find someone else to join you, that’s fabulous.  The series was about all the obstacles to finding love along the way.

This I can relate.  Only on my own was I able to truly find myself.  My move to Barbados during the pandemic was an integral part of that journey, but it had started decades before.  And so had Nick’s path to me.  No amount of visioning and meditation was going to change that.  But what it did do was make clear to me who I am and how I want to show up in the world.

If I were to do it all again, I would still blow out my birthday candles each year and hope to meet The One.  But I would wish for a curious and adventurous mindset for the journey to be more joyful.   And, as always, I would say a gratitude prayer for my girlfriends, hallelujah!