London Bridges

I receive e-mails from around the world on a daily basis through this blog and I love it. If I ever to need to leave the country, you know, "in a rush," I have contacts in 6 of the 7 continents that I'm pretty sure would take me in. (Antarctica, anyone? E-mail me!)

I received this one yesterday from London. It goes on a bit, but here's his point:


It stopped me cold. Read anyone's blog long enough, and you can make certain assumptions about the person. Having over three years of self-deprecating humor on here, you can assume certain things about me:

• I like to laugh at myself. A lot.
• Sometimes I drink too much.
• Sometimes I talk too much.
• Sometimes I drink too much and then talk too much.

But never once would I say I don't think I'm good enough for men. I know that the pain of my last serious relationship has made me absolutely terrified in a panic attack sort of way gunshy of the idea of having a boyfriend again, but has the idea that I don't think I'm good enough really come out in my writing?

Scanning through the last few entires, where the Love Life has taken a priority, certain phrases jump out at me:

• The possibility of getting rejected by 15 men in one night could in fact be my most humbling moment. Ever.
• (Spoken to me) I was getting worried about you.
• I actually heard "May the best man win" over me tonight. Me. Stuff like that never ceases to surprise me.
• I sort of assumed that I haven't had [my most romantic] moment.

Maybe if I was being completely honest with myself-- maybe I do believe that. I express doubts. I know I'm cute, but not especially pretty. I'm brilliant, but my favorite expression is "a man won't cross a room for a beautiful mind." I'm a great storyteller: I have on many occassions moved rooms of people to fits of laughter and tears, but that means little else than I'm a good performer. I've been asked to join Boys' Night Out in two different cities, and that just means I'm good at hanging with the men.

If I was being completely honest with myself-- I would admit that when he asked me out for the third time this week, I assumed he was a player who wanted to get some. I didn't entertain the possibility that maybe he could just be attracted to me and would want to spend time with me. (I'm still leaning with the former on this, we'll see.)

It's often strangers who can see you the clearest. Their perceptions aren't clouded by fear of judgment or anger. It stunned me to realize that I am viewed as that. It stunned me to realize maybe I do think like that. However, those weren't the only words he had written-- he wishes he could have someone like me and that is an e-mail I do receive on a semi-regular basis.

So thank you, Adam from London, for your kind words.