Put your cosmo glasses down ladies, and adjust your overpriced pink accessories accordingly, because what I say is true and you KNOW IT! Not to say it’s a bad show. It’s quite well written and has created some of the most memorable TV characters in recent history. I’m just saying it fucked up my life this past week and I’m mad about it.

In this post “Sex and the City” age young women like me tend to spend way too much time thinking about what men will do next. We care so much about every little reaction, what the relationship is going, what this or that gesture means, that we forget to just let the mysteries of spontaneous love and courtship flow through us at the right times. As they say in improv, we’re completely “in our heads” about love now, because now it’s ok to take our cues from Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha sitting around the brunch table dissecting every little detail about their love lives. I’m sure there is some episode where this issue is addressed, but frankly, I’ve not seen it, so don’t send me any DVD’s in the post.

I met a young man this past weekend, and he was pretty much the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. Paul, who is from Toronto and likes racing motorcycles, is charming, intelligent, and (most amazingly) enjoys my company. The night spent with him was pretty much perfect (I’ll spare you the details here, but call me if you want a girlish gush) in every imaginable way. We made plans to meet up the following day for breakfast (no I did not bring him home because I currently sleep on the sofa of friends and that is not a terribly sexy place) and left pretty much swimming in a cloud of glittery pink happiness.

The next morning, though I completely reverted to “Sex and the City” mode. I assumed he would stand me up. I figured he probably has a girlfriend back home in Toronto and I was just a fun one-off. I remembered that he lives in CANADA. I figured he must have been drunk and not really looking at me. I assumed he would hurt my feelings like so many of my girlfriends have been hurt recently. So I stood up our breakfast date. I lay in bed and told myself that I was doing the right thing. Now, a few days later, I’m still kicking myself. Maybe he would have stood me up. But I didn’t even try, because I’ve been brainwashed to think I can’t have these happy endings. Maybe it would have been lovely, and I would have a really great new friend. I’ve tried to console myself by remembering the fact that no matter what happened, I had a PERFECT NIGHT with a fantastic and handsome man who cheered me up after a really hard week. But I  would have liked to at least shared some coffee and a bagel. That would have been nice too.

PS. If you live in Saratoga and know Paul, please let me know. We didn’t exchange numbers because we were going to meet up. I’m an idiot.

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