Confession Time

I promised I would be really honest with myself while trying to find "Mr. Right" this time around.

Here goes.

Bill called me a while ago, just like he said he would. He was stuck in traffic for almost two hours on 95 on his way home from work, so it's 8 and he's just getting home. We talked for a bit about tomorrow night and watching The Idol (he asked me about this last night), about what he was eating for dinner, about how his cat hates me, about how we hate Kraft singles. And I almost said something like "Well, I'm not doing anything right now...Want me to come over?"

BUT I DID NOT. Instead, I told him to have a nice night and I hung up the phone. Now I can't stop thinking about it.

And you know why? It's because I want instant gratification and I want to "unknowingly" sabotage this good thing. But I also know that is a mistake. And I realize that the anticipation of seeing him again seems almost as satisfying as actually seeing him. I know this is the best part and instead of looking at it in a bad way, I need to enjoy it. And I think he's in the same place. I think he wanted to ask me just like I wanted to ask him. But neither of us did, because...we just didn't.

As Bill said last night "The only thing better than having sex is not having sex." He's actually making fun of the following line in a terrible movie that we watched that I thought would be good but was not good: "The only thing better than kissing on the first date is not kissing on the first date."

Nevertheless, I understand the principle. The build up is usually way better than the actual thing. And while this is risky and could lead to crushing disappointment, it's just fucking true.

So what's my confession? I'm disappointed about something that didn't happen that was never even supposed to happen, and the self doubt is creeping up on me. If I use the rational part of my brain, I realize this is a ridiculous thought and quickly dismiss it.

But the irrational, overly emotional, insecure part of me believes it whole heartedly.

Shit. I thought I was past this...