Did I ever write about this. Feel like I should have, given how much of my adult life is defined by it. Nevertheless, not quite in the mood to go back and check. So here we are.
During most of my romantic attempt, I keep going through this conundrum: the person did not seems to be that interested, but I would not want to drop it out of fear that they may change their mind, with just some more effort. Which never actually happened, yet I keep repeating the same thing over and over again.
On one hand, I didn’t want to quit. I mean, I obviously like the person enough to even try – so why would I quit at the first sign of difficulty? On the other hand though, I don’t see the point of seeing things to the end just to be disappointed, again. But if I don’t try, how would I know that I would be disappointed. But when I try, and fail, is not a situation I adore. Rinse and repeat.
You miss 100% of the shot you don’t take
I hate that saying. Imagine shooting 50 times and still end up missing and tell me if you want to take the rest of those shots.
At this point I am pretty clueless about the whole “dating” thing. Imagine being 32 and still have to think about these teenage bullshit. Not that I care, but enough of my friends do that it annoys me. Can you believe someone like me – living comfortably both financially and professionally – is being snickered at by those who make half (even a third or fourth) of my income and working jobs they don’t love simply because I don’t have a kid to take care of? It tires me out emotionally more than anything, even more than meeting my mom. Who is actually an strong example of that mindset. Nevermind that I worked my ass off from having a Bachelor in Economics, to this point where I can authoritatively tell professional developers – even freaking architects – what they should do. Nevermind that my income is enough for both me and dad to live as comfortably as we could. Because I am not married and obviously no kid, I am a freak of nature. But well, she’s mom. She got a special pass for that. No one else though.
But yeah, it’s not fun. I am jaded of the long lonely nights. My job can be mentally demanding, but it’s the evening that I spend staring at a wall that is draining me dead. I used to work through the night, just to evade that. But now, as much as I want to, I learn that it would just burn me out faster and deprive me of my passion for the job. Just like whisky, I guess. I drank it so often to try and forget bad times; now bad times is all I can think of whenever I want a glass. My job is already my surefire identity, I would hate to lose it.
Probably I am gonna die an old maid lol. If I don’t kill myself before that. They say you have to love yourself before others could. Except plenty of people have fallen for my mask, so there’s that. Should I wear a mask for the rest of my life?
Little Moon Cafe 