Sorry for the slackassness. I have no excuse.

And I will not talk about the election. If I start, please bitch slap me soundly. Thank you.

I was brutally bored late last night, and unable to sleep since I’d come home early from work and was of course completely awake come 11 p.m.; so I read most of my journal from the summer of 1999.

I was not in a happy place.

Why did I, do I, let men make feel so unlovable? When I’m not. When they’re just boys who don’t know what they really want? Their opinions should not shape me, yet I let them.

Spring Break senior year I met the most wonderful boy. And a boy he was, only a sophomore at the Naval Academy. But he was charming, and gentlemanly and acted like I cast the stars.

We met on the first day and kept bumping into each other on the strip in Mo’Bay, but didn’t really hang out until the end of the week. On Friday night he stayed with me at Marguaritaville while Kimi and Pony went off with boys. The bar is two stories, with the utmost level open to the Jamaican sky. We stood up there, overlooking the Caribbean, the Blue Mountains in the distance, and talked for hours. Around 3 a.m. we’d both run out of money so we walked back to my hotel and sat outside and kept talking. When dawn began to break we walked across the street and watched the sun rise above the waves.

It was one of the most amazing nights of my life.

He flew out that morning and by the time the girls and I returned to campus on Monday morning, I already had an email waiting for me.

We corresponded for several weeks before finally losing touch.

Overall, the ideal Spring Break romance. Nothing more, right?

March 1999 I come home from work to a message on my machine from Navy Boy. Asking me to call him.

Not even five minutes into the conversation he invites me to his Ring Dance, still two months away. Those of you unfamiliar with military academies, or places like A&M, let me just sum it up by saying this is a huge deal. The social event of many of their lives.

Suffice it to say that weekend was like a fairy tale and I had the starring role. It went beyond any prom, any fraternity formal, into a realm of dreams.

And Navy Boy, he was insanely incredible. I fell in love with him that weekend. In retrospect, champagne, limousines, and the monuments against the black sky probably heightened my feelings. But a lot of them were real. And they were also reciprocated.

He told me that he didn’t invite me for just a great weekend. He invited me because he wanted to continue seeing me. Forever.

You all know where this is going. It still hurts to think about but mostly I feel foolish and naïve.

I went to visit him over the fourth of July in San Diego, where he was stationed for flight school.

Again, another amazing weekend.

But then it all fell apart and I was alone. Our communications lessened over the rest of the month. He sailed for three weeks in August. No contact.

And when we finally did talk, he was brutally cold.

I actually thought I would marry this guy. This boy who was so unready for what I was offering. And I allowed his rejection to rip me apart. I was miserable last Fall and I allowed him, and the situation to ruin me.

I can’t even tell you how many entries in my diary consisted of lines like "what’s wrong with me?" – "when will it be my turn?" – "why am I so trusting?" – "why do I let myself go?" – "it’s so easy to draw men in but I can’t keep them."

And I took total responsibility, never thinking that perhaps it wasn’t me. That maybe I just pick the wrong people or get too swept up in things that aren’t real.

I’m slowly spinning towards the realization that love will come to me. I can’t search it out. I can’t force it to stay by my side. I can’t make people into things they aren’t just to erase my fear of loneliness.

I’m not lonely anymore.