This hope thing is devastating

I had a lovely 10 hour date with Brittany last Saturday. I just thoroughly enjoyed her, taking her in, sharing a little of me, learning what she shared. It was perfect.

I called the next evening to tell her so and got her voice mail.

Uh-oh.

Two days went by, I called again last night, and I got voice mail again.

She called back, and left a solid minute on my voice mail. It was sweet, and if I met lots of girls I liked who were "thin and interesting", and emotionally available, and hot, and open, then it would be no big deal. She called herself crazy, because I was perfect in every way, nice, and hot, and interesting, and lots of fun, but "something was wrong with the dynamic".

I texted her that I was disappointed, but no worries.

Because that's what a confident, put together person does, right? They can handle going out with someone on two dates and being completely into them only to be surprised and hurt when it turns out to be not at all what it was cracked up to be.

Which is kinda what I did to Lola, actually, and she reacted in a completely crazed and psycho way, which I'm not going to do.

And it's not that big of a deal. It really isn't. I spent a collective twelve hours with this girl, and despite her positive atttributes, I've dated all of those attributes before. Lauren and Kim were just as good-hearted. Chrissy, Susan, Allyson, Emily, and others were hotter. Laura and Amanda were just as smart. And nearly all of the girls I remember well enough to name were at least as emotionally available.

(Who am I trying to convince here?)

It's just that the numbers are so, so, sooo bad. Out of the 100-150 girls I've dated since Slutbag, I've slept with 16 and wanted to date about 6.

Two of them I blew off because I came back to 2nd and 3rd dates with them after leaving my heart in Texas. I'm not sure what would have happened there, but one lived 500 miles away and the other had a whopping one night a week for me and was really self absorbed. But they nonetheless get honorable mention.

One of them I dated for a couple of months and decided that she wasn't challenging enough for me. She lost on the brainy/feisty requirement. I can handle feisty and not brainy, or brainy and note feisty, but I need one or the other.

The other three evaporated, disappearing after I started to really like them. Brittany is one of the three. The missing names include the infamous Texan and a single mom from last summer.

So I'm looking at 4 percent. 1 in 25. And of those, there are none with whom it would've worked out. Not really. Not rationally. Not if I put it all down on paper and think rationally about the peripheral attributes, the professions, the age, etc.

Except for, right this minute, this last one. But that's undoubtedly just because I had a nice crush and feel open and hopeful for the first time in years, save for that little hiatus my cynicism took the last time I left California.

And so, here I am, waking up after sleeping three miserable hours with insomnia, wanting to self-medicate so that I can sleep a peaceful sleep and wake up with good dreams on my mind.

College life will probably be a lot better, because every 20 year old is emotionally available and hot. Some of them might even be smart and feisty. At 5:30 AM on a random Tuesday before my 30th birthday, however, I'm not sure how I'll make it.

Sigh. Sad music and a good cry might make me tired. This is my life. I have great friends and a comfortable life, but no... right. Whatever the fuck it is I'm actually looking for.

Good dreams, perhaps. Let me at least start with that. Please?