I may have mentioned a time or two before that my father took me to see the New Kids on the Block for my birthday when I was in the 4th grade. It was the coolest thing ever. I wore my lavender sweatshirt that had each of the boys faces in a metallic screen print across the front. I can’t imagine that I looked anything less than cool.
Sometime shortly thereafter my musically inclined father took matters into his own hands and started introducing me to real music by real musicians. By the 6th grade, Bonnie Raitt had taught me everything I would need to know about falling in love, being in love, and knowing when to let it go.
I had a date Friday night with a guy I’d been chatting with for a few days. I was really looking forward to the date and nervous as hell. By all conversations, I knew him to be funny, quick-witted, down to earth, active, and a dog-lover. I knew on some level we’d have a nice time regardless and we did…
Old Megan would push through, try again, fit a square peg into a round hole. I would let myself feel guilty for not being able to drum up excitement about this really nice guy. I’d feel mean and shallow and force myself to continue to go out with a guy I did not like.
*I dated the Black-hole of Happiness for 2 years doing this before*
*It was a TERRIBLE decision*
But not this time. Nosirreebob. As my Bonnie taught me:
You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t.
I could try again, go on a second date, and see if something could grow. But I’ve met people before where the connection has been immediate and electric. I owe it to myself to be free to find that. I owe it to Friday-night-guy to let him find it, too.
So really, I’m doing everyone a favor here…DAMN! I’m selfless…