There is a tide in the affairs of women, which taken at the flood … could lead to a fairly stable, or at least not too terribly unstable, romantic relationship. Or at least a fun, flirty friendship, with a few butterflies in the tummy, great sex, and no emergency calls to your therapist, your best friend or your AA sponsor.
Unfortunately, it could also lead to eating 3 quarts of Ben and Jerry’s Boom Chocolatta while dressed in flannel cow pajamas, listening to Adele singing Make You Feel My Love on continuous replay and drinking wine out of a box. Okay, not that last one. Nothing could make me drink boxed wine. But I think you get my point.
You know that moment ladies, the one when you realize that despite being intelligent, empowered and a regular reader of Jezebel, you are probably going to take a chance on a guy who could be great, or could very well be dangerous to your peace-of-mind. I’m not talking some loser; in fact, he’s likely quite impressive, or why would a chick like you be willing to roll the dice? He’s probably attractive and quite accomplished, but for whatever reason, you suspect that he might not being ready, willing, able or just plain interested enough, in treating you as well as you clearly deserve to be treated.
Let’s say, hypothetically, he’s a busy guy. But you are a busy woman too. You tell yourself, “I’m nobody’s second priority. If he cancels on me this time, I’m done.” But inside, you know that the chances are far too great that you’ll whip out that calendar app and reschedule. In fact, you might as well have “WELCOME” tattooed across your tuchus. And even though your girlfriends, your sister, your former college roommate, that old woman who makes change at the laundromat, all said “No good can come of this,” you’re still keeping Saturday night, (okay and Sunday afternoon, but just until four), open “just in case.”
And you know it’s wrong. And if he cancels there will be a bit of self-loathing, but at least your apartment will be spotless. And why do we do this? Why do we defy logic, cast aside that fine education that we’ll be paying off until we’re ninety, ignore the sound advice of people who care about us and the old lady at the laundromat? Because what Oscar Wilde said was true, “The very essence of romance is uncertainty.” Damn.