Get Used to Disappointment

Now that I’ve gushed about “Mr. Smell Good” for over a week now, I’m actually a bit nervous and anxious about going back to Dayton again. I had always planned on going back to the Princess Diana exhibit just because I couldn’t get all my girlfriends together to go on the same day, and now it looks like I’ll definitely be returning there in a couple of weeks for my 2nd visit. But somehow I’m almost afraid to return.

Everyone thinks I’m going back for him—-going back to introduce myself and check him out further, and while I admit that I’ll be looking for him, I’m actually terrified about a 2nd encounter. I’m preparing myself even now for disappointment. Maybe this time, he’ll have a ring on that left hand, or I’ll spot a girlfriend. I’ll be looking for some flaw so that I can tell myself I’m better off without him—without really putting forth the effort to get to know him and find out what he’s really like. I mean, let’s have a reality check here. In my experience, guys like that don’t talk to girls like me—-except in the movies. In real life, it just doesn’t happen, or if it does, it doesn’t happen to me.

My co-workers are saying that I need to stop putting myself down, but I don’t see it as a “put down” to face reality and be aware of how things are. I might be a big dreamer, but I live in reality, too. I’ve watched it happen too many times to be naïve about it. You might have the best personality in the world and be able to make people laugh or have a wide range of discussion topics as well as excellent listening skills, but somehow, if a man is that fine, he’s not going to notice the short, fat girl standing right next to him. He’s going to be admiring “Miss Push-Up-Bra” or “Miss Legs-Up-To-Here” across the room.

OK, I know…now I’m judging him. It sounds like I’m saying that a man that fine is nothing more than a shallow, self-absorbed creature, when for all I know, this guy might volunteer at a homeless shelter on his days off. The fact is, I’m being just as shallow by ASSUMING how he would react to me without giving him the benefit of the doubt. I guess it’s my defense mechanism kicking in. I prefer to dream about the unattainable than actually be disappointed in the reality, and if I accept the disappointment before it happens, it’s easier to swallow somehow. I confess…I’m all talk and dreams. It's the first step toward recovery, right?!?