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.'