I was cleaning out my email box the other day and I came across what I’ll call the “Dear Jane” email from the last guy I dated. I had thought I deleted it but I hadn’t. Not because of any leftover feelings – just hadn’t gotten to cleaning out my inbox. But there was something he wrote that when I read it for the second time made a light bulb turn on.
“It seemed the only time we had was my helping on some project on your end, rather than relaxing on couch or having dinners and netflix or whatever”
Relaxing on the couch? Having dinners and Netflix?
Um…That’s so not me. Just ask my family.
I’m not a girl who can really sit still for very long. Sitting and watching a movie is not my idea of fun. I’d rather be busy with a project. Any day. Particularly a home improvement project. I don’t see it as work. I see it as fun.
I dated a guy not so long ago who was more than willing to help me with my projects. He was very eager and willing to join me in my life and fully involve me in his. But… the feelings on my end just never gelled. Why, I have no idea. Yet, the last guy, the one who wanted nothing to do with my life even when specifically invited in (actually ran the other way), who only wanted me to hang out solo with him, is the one who I really liked and I ended up hurt when he couldn’t show up for the relationship.
What’s up with that?
I told my mom that my picker’s broken. Bless her heart, she responded, “You sure have had a spell of bad luck lately.” Yeah, I guess that’s it. Bad luck.
Whatever.
I don’t really care any more (well, I do, sort of). I just plan on riding my bike. Kind of like Forest Gump. I’ll ride and ride and ride. Until I’m done.
Cuz like my mom also said, “I think you’re in love with your bike.”
Wisest 91 year old EVER.
Image source: http://wayoutwear.blogspot.com/2011/01/dinner-for-schmucks-mice.html
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