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A Girl Can Dream, Can’t She?

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A Girl Can Dream, Can’t She?

Who am I to talk about sex and romance? I’ve never had either.  I almost did, once.  And it took a fair amount of time for my bruised little heart to get past the confusion of the moment. Recently, the closest I’ve come to a date was with a 'genius' at the 'bar' at the Apple store. He couldn’t help me.

My track record in the love department sucks. I have felt forgotten, used, dragged along and, worst of all, like a body double. I often share too much, too fast.  Then, I develop ideas of what I think a person should do with that information. But they respond either not in the way I expect, or not at all.  I then turn that disappointment into complete rejection and begin to tell myself that I have no hope at ever being in love. I’ve given away little bits of me to poor expectations and replaced them with cynicism.

I wish I had a better story to tell.  I used to be a romantic.  Most likely I still am.  I still love Sleeping Beauty and Sense and Sensibility.  I still sing with Bridget Jones as she lip-syncs to Celine Dion – 'All by myself, don’t wanna be, all by myself, anymore.'

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