A Watched Pot

I called my mom tonight, seeking comfort and reassurance that someone would eventually want me. I should have known better. My mom is a lot of things but neither one of my parents should be on speed dial for reassurance and comfort when it comes to stuff like that. Instead I got off the phone feeling my own mother is doubtful a man exists that would want me. It is not reassuring to tell someone there must be someone for them because so many really jacked up people manage to find someone willing to marry them. It would have been worse if I talked to my father so at least he didn't answer the phone. If it happens, it happens but the particular torment of the moment is the sickness of magical thinking I've become susceptible to since moving here. I know all about the gravity of small decisions that change your life. Going to the pound on a whim and leaving with an animal that changes your life. Going to a meetup and meeting someone who lives one floor above you. Even the magic of catching the 48 bus delights me for the precision of how my morning has to unfold to catch that bus as it literally waits at the light ready to leave me.

Since moving here, a feeling has seized me that each time I say 'no', every time I consider an event and don't go, I might be missing him. I might be missing that 'how I met your mother' moment. It is the feeling that makes people feel certain slot machines are lucky, keeps them sitting at the machine even when they are losing, keeps them at the craps table, keeps them engaged in any game that depends almost entirely on chance. I am watching the pot too closely. I know it's not going to boil while I watch, I know I'm not going to see him coming and have no idea where he's going to come from, or if he even exists. But every single time I go out, almost every encounter with the opposite sex, I'm wondering, is this going to be the night? is he the one? is he the one who is going to lead me to the one? It is a total bi-polar cocktail of hope and crushing disappointment.

We met a ridiculously hot guy today on the street. I was holding a Burger King bag and pretty preoccupied with getting to my fries before they became inedibly cold. The guy, who considered me the way one considers the sidewalk, walked past me, a tour guide, and two other people to approach OG who was ordering a smoothie from a fruit cart to ostensibly ask her if she knew if the Megabus stopped at the corner we were at. I stood at the light for a few cycles waiting for the guy to close the deal with OG so we could go sit down in the park and I could devote my full attention to my rapidly cooling french fries. But they got to talking (of course) and eventually OG noted to hot guy (his name is Steven) that I was waiting for her and I walked over. He seemed pretty amazing, said a lot of things in three minutes that made me think we would get along like peas and carrots. He spent most of the weekend writing (ding!), went to Princeton (not really on the 'list' but ding!), helps out disadvantaged kids (holy crap! ding!) not really into Facebook (amen, brother and ding!). And he was stunning. Just a beautiful man. Steven got our e-mail addresses though I'm pretty sure if he writes either of us, it will be OG. Nevermind the weirdness again with guys taking out their phones to get your e-mail address. WTF is that about? He did not give us his. Probably because he didn't want me writing him.

That guy was out of my league by dozens. I would have air time with this guy only if he considered me disadvantaged (and I am, Steven. Ask anyone. Here you are this beautiful man and while I noticed your stunning looks, I was frankly pretty absorbed in getting to a park bench to dig into some fries I did not need. I think that is some pretty compelling evidence of profound mental challenge). OG could be enrolled in the guy of the month club, she's still trying like all of us to gain traction with just one guy but she has every reason to be confident that men ARE interested in her. And not just the usual suspects that are interested in all women (street sweepers, bus drivers, the occasional homeless man) and who remain my core demographic in terms of expressed interest in dating. I'm naturally a little jealous but happy too that she could have the self esteem boost of having a ridiculously good looking guy approach her like that.

My pot is filled with glacially cold water and the burner is set to 'warm.' I wish I could just give up. Stupid f-ing pot.