It’s always my fault. I’m too picky. I’m too desperate. I’ve got bad timing. Well, fine. I’m done. I’m a spinster and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Apparently, I am Witch Hazel to men on some spiritual or actual level, complete with green skin and straw like hair. Yes, hairpins fly out of my head whenever I zip out of a room.
I’ve gone out with men of varying size, shape, background, height, hair length, and age. I’ve gone out with men whose political and social values are the opposite of mine. I’ve gone out with men who seem completely compatible on paper and in person. I’ve gone out with men who I found myself instantly attracted to and men who didn’t really spark much within me, but I gave them (or was willing to give them) more than one date just to be sure.
I feel like I’m the safe woman that men look for to help them get through until they find their one true love. I’m just the bridge. I’m barely noticed on the way to someone else. Either that or I’m a magnet for assholes who realize that I won’t stand for their shit and move along as fast as they showed up.
Welcome to my wit’s end. Everything I do is wrong and I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been rejected 7 times this month. My limit has been reached and will most likely be exceeded if I continue.
So, I’m hitting the pause button until Month 6 commences in 20 some odd days.