Self-doubts again. Awesome. Not.

I couldn’t reach Gwen – but then of course I only tried twice, because I don’t want to be ridiculous (I save that for this blog). Of course, to my poor brain and its long history of rejection and dejection, that automatically meant “see, she is not into you”. But then I tell myself, I could not have been THAT wrong about Gwen, can I?

Of course I could, but I still like to think I wasn’t. She had plenty of opportunities to shorten our first date, and she did not have to agree to a second one if she had felt any doubts.

I guess I will know soon enough, so even if this was another dud I won’t have to wrack myself over it for weeks. But I will be honest – I am not sure how many of these disappointments I can take anymore.

The entire matter does show that this secret diary is still necessary. And, and I will be brutally honest here, I am starting to think I should probably actually find a therapist to fix some of the damage I have suffered in the past twenty years.