Confessions of a Single Girl

I am sitting alone in my condo on a Friday night, watching the South Beach revelry unfold at my feet. I was out with the revlers a mere moment ago, but suddenly it was all too much and I had to leave. I haven't posted in over two months, so hopefully no one will read this. It may be altogether too pathetic and revealing.

The past week has brought several interesting developments.

First: last Thursday, I received an e-mail from a guy I met two years ago. I have obsessed over him and adored him from afar. I have convinced myself that we are supposed to be together. He has finally broken up with his girlfriend (so he told me, though I am starting to have doubts) and took me out on a long delayed date.

He picked me up and took me to an art gallery. Then another. Then for a snack and drinks. Then to another bar.

We hung out for hours. We had the same opinions on music, books, movies, travel, life, and what do with $20 million (after taxes). As the hours progressed, I could not believe that we were getting along so well.

He told me at the last bar that he had a crush on me for the past two years, just as I had harbored a tremendous crush on him. He said the night he met me, he thought, "Who is this girl?" and was intrigued ever since.

I have waited so long to hear him say those words.

So long.

Two years, in fact.

And I was convinced that he came into my life again for a reason, and that we were meant to be.

He said repeatedly that he wanted to take me out again on Thursday.

I thought, this is too good to be true. And it probably is.

Because he never called.

I broke down and called him, but he was still out of town. Allegedly we are going out again on Sunday.

I will believe it when I see it.

Second: Friday I was invited to the birthday party of the guy who dumped me in Buenos Aires. Think I'll skip that one.

Third: Also Friday, I saw my ex-boyfriend on the causeway. Catch this dickhead manuever: he pulled into the right lane as I was approaching in the left. Then he pulled along side me. I didn't look at him. Tonight (Friday, a week later) a friend told me all about his current dating life and who he is being set up with. I wanted to vomit. I don't want to know what he is doing. I would be happier if he didn't exist. It's taken me much longer than I can understand to realize exactly how much he hurt me. On New Year's Eve, the simple mention of his name made me do two shots in a row and get so drunk that I woke up on my bathroom floor the next morning.

Clearly, I am not well.

Fourth: I had gone on a few dates with a guy. They were fun, but I was not myself with him. Something held me back. And I didn't like him that much. He left for a two week vacation and I was fairly certain that I would not hear from him again. But Wednesday, he sent me an e-mail saying that he has decided to commit to a long distance relationship with a girl who lives in New York. He was sorry to write this, of course, because he so enjoyed getting to know me. I replied and told him good luck. He had the audacity to write back and ask me questions. I supplied a sufficiently dour reply that I doubt I will hear back from him.

All week I've been saying that I don't think I will get married. And most of my friends have reassured me, saying, no, of course you will.

But earlier tonight, one friend replied, "Maybe you won't get married. I'm not sure that everyone does."

In conjunction with the other events of this week, her comment shook me to the core.

Because as often as I may say I am convinced I may not get married or won't have kids, I am trying to convince myself that it could very well happen, and it will be ok.

But I don't think I would be ok if I was remained alone, or never had kids. I think I would be extremely upset. I have too much to offer and too much love and caring to give. I'm not supposed to be alone. But that could very well be my fate.

At a South Beach bar tonight, surrounded by fake titted women and the shallow men drooling over them, I cracked just a little. This is not the city where I am supposed to live. I think there is more out there for me. I hope beyond hope that there is more out there for me.

But it's not in Miami.