Not that I would jump to conclusions...

MARCH 2008-APRIL 23rd 2008

The Mr. No Show saga continues. I've almost become resigned to the game we play. Texts throughout the day, teasing each other that maybe we'll see each other that night. It never happens. We both know it won't. Yet some weird little corner of my heart always holds out hope that he will actually come through. I waiver on whether or not I should talk to other people. It feels almost like cheating just to check my online dating account. But why? It's not like he's putting his money where his mouth is. So why would I rule out possibilities of other people when at this point I'm not even sure if the man of my dreams is real? Because no one I talk to makes me feel like he does. No one appreciates my sarcasm and smart ass wit and thinks I'm sexy and adorable and wonderful like he makes me feel. I'm sick and I know it. I'm crying out for help. Ha!

It's not like our communication is always consistent. Sometimes I fear I'm just something he does when he's bored at work. There are days that we text back and forth and then email and then instant message for hours while he finished up at the office. These are my favorite days. I hang on a dime waiting for his correspondence. It will be a few perfect days and then nothing for three or four. Back on for the entire week and then nothing over the weekend. The paranoid woman has bouts of doubt and wonders if he has a wife or something. He assures me he does not. All I can do is believe him.

When my dad has his open heart surgery, Mr. No Show is my rock. Checking on me, worrying about me 4 hours away at the hospital, letting me know he's always thinking about me and that if I need anything, he's there. It helps more than I can ever tell him. In the back of my head I am praying that someday the two most important men in my life will meet. Somedays I think that's a totally ridiculous thought but I can't help but have it. There is a lot about Mr. No Show that reminds me of my dad and I think they would get along great. You know, if I ever get to meet him myself. Guess we should cross that bridge before I introduce him to the family. He always says that once we meet there will be no end. I completely agree. Does that mean we can have a real beginning?

April is slipping away and the game continues. I have a momentary lapse of sanity and decide to take matters into my own hands. Now, anyone that knows me AT ALL, is wondering why the hell it took me this long. I can't really answer that. I think part of me worried that we would meet and it wouldn't be as perfect. I would find something wrong with him, as I always have done in the past and then this perfect and wonderful and sick and twisted fake "relationship" I have would be over and then I would just be me and alone again.

He bowls every Tuesday night. He knows I know this. He knows I know where. He just doesn't know that tonight I'm going to show up and catch a glimpse of my supposed dream man. I figure it's a bit poetic. You know, the first place he ever stood me up would be the place I surprised him and either make or break what we have. Keep in mind I don't know what he looks like. I've still not seen a picture. He says he often gets told he looks like A-Rod. At this point I don't care if he looks like Forrest Whitaker on crack. I just want to see him and know he's real and I'm not insane. I figure it can't be that hard to figure out who he is. How many light skinned hotties could possibly be bowling league at this alley in the middle of white-bread USA? Sometimes I'm so very wrong.

Stacy and I go to the bowling alley. We eat. We have a drink. I spot a guy that could be him. He's wearing a bright yellow shirt with the company logo on the back. All you have to know at this point is that it had a flag on it which made me think it was him. We lock eyes at one point and my heart nearly jumps out of my throat. He smiles. He's cute. Is this him? I don't know! If it is, why wouldn't he come up and say something? He knows what I look like. But he doesn't approach. Stacy and I go out to bowl. We are down many lanes from him. I try to be non-chalant but I can't help but look in that direction every chance I get. And then I see the guy with the flag shirt that I think is my true love playing with a child. A boy about the age of 2 or 3. And a mother standing close by. They look like a happy little family. What the fuck? Is this the reason we couldn't meet? He's married with a kid? I want to run out in tears but my stubborn pride forces me to finish my game. She and the kid leave. He walks them out. He smiles at me as he does. He smiles at me when he comes back. I want to scratch his mother fucking eyes out. We go to the counter to return our shoes and he has now moved to the lane next to us. I can't even look. Stacy turns to look at him and whispers that he's checking me out. Good, he can check my happy ass walking out this frickin door and his life. What an asshole. What a fool I was. I'm in awe and completely crushed.