This chic is physically exquisite. You know who I'm talking about, we all see them. They are the rare human representative for all those airbrushed photographs in the Cosmopolitan magazines we read in college but we refuse to even look at in the grocery line now. Okay, so maybe we glance at them, never touch them and chuckle at the headlines which always seem to give us a new way to please our man.
Newsflash. Men are not hard to please. Just ask them. They will tell you.
Anyway, I get to meet this chic and she's not even airbrushed in the meeting and she is THAT GORGEOUS. Yet there are no worries because before the meeting I have already decided she has something inherently wrong with her like maybe she can't do math or has a bad temper. I don't know but figure God would not give someone everything, right?
We sit and talk. No, I didn't give her any math problems to do, but I did listen.
Let's just say God does pour a little more in some cups.
I sat there as she openly told the tale of her last failed relationship. How two weeks before the wedding it had been called off and how incredibly devastating it was. She seemed to speak with such wisdom when she said she had tried time and time again to hold on until one day she realized that he didn't want her. And that's when she walked away.
She's twenty-one years old.
The math ends up being that it took me at least fifteen years past twenty-one to admit to myself someone wouldn't want me. It then took me about five more years after that to stop taking it so personally.