Hoping By a Thread

Wanna hear a secret? Sometimes I put a package of M&M's in the fridge, let them freeze a bit, and then pour them in my jar of Jif peanut butter and eat them...by the spoonful. I make sure only to scoop a little bit of PB on the spoon, after all, a little goes a long way. There's my secret. And I just put away my jar of peanut butter. This could only mean two things: I had a bad day, or I had a bad day and got my heart bruised.

Dramatic, I know. And my heart's not even scratched, but my ego, oh, that's another story. So my latest conquest wants to be friends. We don't click. The thing is, I didn't even like him that much. I was simply open to taking a chance. I was told to put myself out there, so I did. Perhaps it's because I'm a touch immature? I do have a voice like a 12-year-old on speed. Maybe my love handles aren't quite...loveable? Could I be too honest and upfront? Fine. I know the answers to these queries. He's not worth it if he doesn't love me for me. I just can't help but wonder...if anything will ever happen for me? I'm like the chick in Never Been Kissed, only, I've made it to fourth base. ...So maybe I'm not like her, scratch that. It's just, well, there's this article in an old issue of New York Magazine that continues to haunt me. It focused on four women, all of whom never fell in love. They never got married. They had fullfilling lives, just no...fourth base. If I knew that when I hit 32, I would fall in love and get married shortly thereafter, I would be completely fine. It's just that terror that I'm destined to be alone. Not to party in my pity, but it's just a fear of mine. I'd like to think it's human nature, but everyone else is too cool to admit it. I guess I never really was one for cool.