Ah, well… here we are. Another newbie Relationship has ended.

I have an unpublished manuscript chronicling my relationship hits and misses over the years, from my very first love to the last relationship I was in a couple years ago. I wrote 50,000 words during a wine-fueled, week-long mania of reflection, laughter, and tears.

One day, I will publish it. For kicks. A tell-all. Or maybe I’ll wait for my autobiography, when I blow the cover on some shit and really drop some jaws with the “secrets” of my life.

Although this most recent blunder lasted a mere four months, it has surely earned a spot in those pages (whenever it feels complete enough to publish).

I’ve given some thought as to what I wanted to write here. My first instinct was not to write anything at all. Because, you know, I’m a nice girl. Nice girls don’t do things like write tell-all blog posts about ex-lovers.

And it was in that moment – that exact moment of realizing that I felt “bad” about roasting a dude (without revealing his identity, of course) who really deserved a few hours in the Jessica crock pot, that maybe… it’s time to move past being the “nice girl.”

My whole dating life – the last 20 years or so – has been spent as the “nice girl.” Spent worrying about the feelings of men who often had little regard for mine. Spent handing out passes and excuses for some pretty shitty behaviors. During the last 15 years, I have become a magnet for a very distinct “type” of man – and indeed, this goes two ways because I have also been wildly attracted to this “type.”

I’ve managed to overcome the “nice girl” mentality in other areas of my life. I am nice to my friends, reliable and there when they need help, a cheerleader to dust them off and get them back in the game when they need it – but I am by no means a doormat to any of them. I’ve systematically carved out friends and acquaintances who were drains on my life. I’ve learned to handle my clients like a businesswoman – how to be firm, stand my ground, command my fees, and fire bad clients.

But the “nice girl” has still been hanging out in my romantic relationships. And it’s been a real head-scratcher for me – I have some ideas of why this has been, but that’s a post for another day.

In every other area of my life, I am this fierce, take-no-shit, writer of my destiny. During my late teens/early 20s (college years), when I was still quiet, shy, scared to stand up for myself, and would turn bright red and blotchy when I got nervous or faced any form of confrontation, I developed an alter-ego for myself.

There’s a lot more back story to how this alter-ego was developed (I’m saving that story for the autobiography), but she was born one day when I was sort of daydreaming about the type of woman I wanted to become.

I imagined a sort of edgy girl-next-door look with a dominatrix attitude. Fierce. Dominant. In control. Unwilling to take anyone’s shit. Smoking hot and the kind of smart that would make you check yourself before you engaged her in a conversation.

Hey. She was my alter-ego. I could make her anything I wanted.

I named her “Belle.” A play on my last name. French for “beautiful” – the epitome of femininity juxtaposed against this savage fierceness.

Belle has jumped in more and more over the years, taking on a prominent role in my early 30s. She has taken over during business negotiations. She has been the trigger puller behind many of my spontaneous, adventure-seeking decisions. If I have moments when I feel a little timid, unsure of myself, anxious… I channel Belle.

Because that bitch is fearless.

Today, I am more Belle than ever. But one area that Belle has not quite tapped into has been my romantic relationships. I’ve always muzzled her. Assumed some sort of submissive role as the sweet girlfriend.

Thus, this is the end of another chapter – the ushering of a more powerful energy into the area of my life that has always been kind of hum-drum.

The nice girl is gone.

And look, when I’m over here celebrating the long-awaited demise of “Jessica, the nice girl,” let me be clear about what I’m celebrating.

I’m celebrating my unwillingness to tolerate bullshit in any more of my relationships – whether with friends, lovers, family members, or business partners/clients. I am celebrating that the story I’m about to share (in my next post) is the last of its kind … in my life.

I’m going to let Belle write it. Fair warning.

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