Please Suck

I hope he's awful.

The cop. Bryan, I mean.

I hope that when we finally meet it's awkward and horrible and I check the time 400 times before racing home.

Because I finally realized just a moment ago how scared I am.

I walk around believing that Jeff destroyed me. Believing I can't love anyone else. Believing I'll never feel it again.

And there's this guy - this guy who really wants to take me out. He says all the right things - and I mean he says ALL the right things. Not pushy, not wimpy, not aloof - he doesn't get innappropriate. We just talk and it flows and he makes me smile the smallest smile ever.

Poor guy.

He has no idea I'm damaged goods. No idea that I'm terrified that I might actually like him at all. No idea that I'd rather the date go awful so I won't have to let anyone near me again.

I'm scared. I'm scared to like someone. I'm scared to even go meet him face to face. I'm scared because I think we will like each other.

So I hope we won't.

Because if it goes badly I can hold on to my pain. I can keep walking around like the walking wounded mourning Jeff and telling the world how I can never love again. If it goes badly I won't ever have to tell Bryan how hurt I got. I won't ever have to open up or share my feelings or let someone get close.

I won't have to ever take a chance on letting someone close enough to hurt me.

So I hope it's horrible.

And at the same time, I know it's monumental that I'm going at all. My family and my co-workers all seem to be holding their breath like I am a cripple in rehab trying to take a first step out of a wheelchair. I know there's some secret reason why this one managed to get me out. He pushed some ight combination of buttons.

But I still hope it sucks.