I had a talk with myself this morning to try to find out why this sudden burst of desperation.
I have always been by myself and I have always loved it, albeit a few glitches here and there, and I have always never returned calls from guys, or hinted to guys that I like them, or just generally made myself readily available. Why? Because I was happy all by myself. I had me and my goals and that was plenty enough for me.
Needless to say, things are no longer the status quo. I have called, texted guys, desperate stupid texts that sometimes go unanswered and I have slept with guys that I am not in the least bit attracted to. Aaargh!
I feel like months or years from now, if I ever meet the one and he is this cool cat that is just wonderful, takes my breath away, respects me, loves me endearingly, and is just fantastic, he would shudder at the list of misgivings that I have been up to before his arrival. He would be a tad disappointed. I would be a tad disappointed that I hadn't waited for him, instead I had let desperation and the urge to scratch an itch and be a bad girl at 33 years, get the better of me.
So I had the talk with myself this morning, begging me to get back to me and to forgo all things not me, and just keep hoping, praying and indirectly wishing for that Keanu lookalike, gentle fun soul to take over me someday. Hopefully, he is worth the wait.
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