I grew up in the 80's and 90's loving John Hughes movies like everyone else. But unlike many other girls my age, I was not obsessed with pink. I was obsessed with being perfect. I've tried to figure out where this perfection need came from, without much success.
I'm sure it does not surprise you to find out that I'm NOT perfect. And while I made great strides and had generally great successes in most things, there are two areas where perfection was (and is still) hard to attain. The one I'll discuss here is my inability to judge male romantic (for lack of a better word) opinions about me. Oh, I'm great at dictating the love lives of strangers and friends. I can detect and ascertain how many different types of people feel about one another. However, when it comes to me. . .it is a sad state of affairs.
I've hoped that over the years I've learned and grown from past mishaps in this area. I'm not an idiot. I know when the super cheesy dude is hitting on me. I'm talking about the "real possibility" interest here. I never know when I'm "just one of the guys" or "potential interest". Men have told me years later of their past interest in me. While flattering, it doesn't help. Why didn't these men ask me out? There have been a few explanations given. But nothing definitive. You know "I thought you were interested in someone else", or "I liked a bunch of girls at the same time, I didn't know who to choose", or the best of them all "I didn't want to ruin our great friendship." I don't know about you, but I'd love the guy I date and eventually marry to be someone I have a great friendship with. Haven't they seen "Some Kind of Wonderful"? I guess that's why I have this blog. So that some type of enjoyment can come out of my dating mishaps and missed snaps. :)
Raise your glasses, cheers to more blogging and a John Hughes ending at some time in my future.
(Note: This post was much funnier in my head before I started writing. Then as I wrote, it just seemed blah. Oh well, here it is anyway.)
