Getting My Hopes Up.

This whole gettin’ my hopes up thing has got to stop. But will it, ever? It’s that familiar giddy feeling when you first meet someone and feel they shared the same experience that you did. Much of the time, they shared a similar experience, but it doesn’t pan out the way I hope it would.

I’ll admit that the same image flashes before my eyes when this giddy getting-my-hopes-up feeling arises: we’re getting married, hand in hand, gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes, our wedding parties surrounding us, and friends and family watching us tie the knot. It’s under a white wooden arch with flowers, on perfectly green grass, and a view of the blue ocean. The same exact image pops into my mind each and every time. It’s a little gross actually and makes me fall into that ridiculous girl category of hoping the next guy won’t just be mr. right now, but mr. right foreverandeverandever. My clocks ticking yo! Will one of these shmucks be mr. right ever?? But yes, right after my first date, I feel this giddy feeling arise and the image flashes into my brain. Wtf?

This giddy getting my hopes up thing happens wayyy more than I’d like to admit. Dating sucks in that way. I’ll generally text my go-tos about the connection made and they say the same lovingly supportive type of response, because at this point they too are wondering if I’ll ever meet the right guy.

Mom: “you’re always meeting new guys, they all seem to like you.”

Me: “yea but they all suck.”

Mom: “well maybe they don’t like the driven female thing.”

Me: “oh so you’re saying I should give up on my dream job to meet a guy?”

Mom: “well, no, but it could be the problem.”

Great talk. I’ll get right on that.

There are numerous cases of me getting my hopes up, even if I don’t express it past my go-tos. The rest of the world is clueless to how quickly I can actually get my hopes up on these dudes. They think I’m so strong, and beautiful, clearly I can get anyone and shouldn’t have a problem with it. Uhhh, it doesn’t work like that. Not at all. Not in the least. It’s soooo hard finding the right guy. So much so that I’ve given up on having a “type”.

People ask me if they fit my “type” and I’m like, “what does that mean”? I know I used to be all gaga over tall hipster guys in plaid shirts and vans with tattoos. Now I think those boys are hot, but those guys never pan out. My ex was that type without the tattoos, and he was a total Peter Pan. Now “type” means so much more than meets the eye.

How many more times will I allow my poor delicate soul to get its hopes up? The journey continues…




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