Shit.

I just realized something awful about myself and I have to broadcast it to you because that's what I do. So here it is:

I don't like men that like me too much.

When I was in 6th grade I had the biggest crush on David Abbott who was clearly way cooler than me and out of my league. When I was in 8th grade I was stood up at the dance by Jonathan Povelite. Brett Lafarve (yes that was his name) asked me to dance and I gave him my phone number. My friends made fun of me for dancing with him because he had on a plain white teeshirt that was a little dirty and I felt ashamed and wasn't overly nice to him when he'd call so he stopped calling. Now the Plain White Tees are a bad ass band and I stalked Brett on Facebook once and I think he might be hot now.

I loved Ryan Monson. He ended up being my first boyfriend but only AFTER he dated my best friend. I remember her slipping me a note in Spanish class that said "Lo siento Sara, pero me gusto el conejo". Translation? "I'm sorry Sara, but I like The Rabbit" (The Rabbit being the codename given to said crush). She dated him for three weeks, broke up with him, and then he dated me.

You get used to the rejection. It starts to feel like the natural course of things. It is comfortable. We all know the story with my ex husband; that just compounded this notion that I should be uncomfortable if a guy likes me too much or spends too much of his time thinking of me-that there must be something wrong with him. So when a nice guy comes along I am pretty good at fucking it up. Or I stay fat. Because at this point it feels normal to be rejected.

Good heavens. This might be the worst and best revelation ever.