I’ve been back home now for a little over a year. 13 months to be exact. During this time I’ve been involved—dates, kisses, heavy petting, or sleepovers—with 14 guys. OR sleepovers. Not AND sleepovers.
That’s union—not intersect—for all you math dweebs.
A={dates, kisses} B={heavy petting, sleepovers}
A U B = {dates, kisses, heavy petting, sleepovers}
When my friend Shaheen calls, she asks, “Did you sleep with anyone last night?”
A ‘No’ response: “Good, save some for the rest of us.”
A ‘Yes’ response: “Can you save some for the rest of us?”
Last week, I went from watching TV and spending the night with Guy #1 to having breakfast and spending the day with Guy #2.
I don’t have a dating problem. I’ve got a conversion problem. Help me, math dweebs! Let’s prove this mathematical equation. Catherine Loves Hot Boy = Hot Boy Loves Catherine. This is the symmetric property of equality. If we can’t prove this, then the world as we know it is completely and utterly wrong.
Pardonnez-moi. Enough of the math jargon. Prose from now on. Really I’m just trying to figure out what’s impeding me from having a meaningful relationship. Because I think I want it. That is the end goal for me. I don’t want to write a blog about being single for the rest of my life!
A birth announcement arrived in the mail the other day from my college roommate. I love kids and all, but I don’t yearn to have my own kids. I’m apathetic about the issue. But this one particular birth announcement tugged at my heartstrings. Two adorable twin boys. “Four little hands and four little feet, Two little boys make our lives complete…” I got misty-eyed. The yin and yang of happiness and sadness intertwined somewhere deep within.
Life is perplexing. Love is bewildering. Someone asked me the other day why I don’t have a boyfriend. I kept muttering that I didn’t know. Then I got to thinking out loud. This is what I managed to cough out.
“I like really hot guys. And I think that’s why I’ve got a problem. They’ll ask me out on dates. We’ll go out and it’s all fine and dandy, but it never goes anywhere from there. And I think it’s because I’m not THE hot girl. So really I’m just kind of the girl on rotation. I’ll get a call on like a Tuesday night and I’m thinking…I haven’t heard from this guy in a week. Nice to know that I’m on stand-by. Thanks buddy. But seriously, where should I meet you?”
I do really like hot guys. I’ve got a string of sexy ex’es which makes me believe the hot guys are always attainable—when maybe they’re truly out of my league. My first boyfriend told me, “Catherine, you’re not a head-turner. You don’t stand out in a bar, but you’re just so much fun and full of energy.” I glared at him, stunned and insulted. My second boyfriend appreciated my outer beauty as much as my inner beauty. “Catherine’s like a model, just shrunk down.”
The thinking out loud didn’t help because I’m still muttering I don’t know. I really don’t know, but it sure is fun putting my thoughts out there in this blog. I had dinner with my dad tonight. I took him to Tommy’s Joynt. Spaghetti and meatballs and a shared pint of Boddingtons. We got to talking about my sister and her husband. As he often does, my dad said, “I really like Ronnie.”
“So do I. You know…I think Therese found the perfect husband. Dad, do you think I’ll find a good husband, too?”
“I hope so.” He repeated again, “I hope so.”
Maybe three times a charm. I hope so, too. Life is perplexing. Love is bewildering. But at the same time, I’m a finance girl. I have faith in the numbers, the equations. I’ll prove the symmetric property of equality…if it’s the last thing I do.
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