Today is January 25. It’s Mike’s 30th birthday. I have to admit that some petty portion of me would love to write him an email or text message saying something to the effect of, “Congratulations, you are now thirty and single, and it’s all because of your own bad choices.” I’m not proud of wanting to be so snotty and petty, but I don’t want to deny it either.

To be honest, I have to admit that a small part of me had kind of hoped that he would come to his senses as today rushed in. I had hoped that the sense of getting older would make him realize everything that is slipping (or has slipped) through his fingers, and make a miraculous turnaround. I guess that’s why I haven’t pushed to find someone else. I knew I was still feeling like this. And even though I intellectually know that irrational part of my heart is holding out for something that will probably never happen, I also know that I wouldn’t have been able to give a try at happiness with someone else a fair shot while holding on to that hope. So how does one give up hope.

I have to admit that there were a couple of cute guys at last night’s meetup. I’m pretty sure they were both gay, and they seemed great. Too bad they also seemed to be involved with each other. Figures that the truly cute ones are already together. Oh well, they were probably a bit too young for me anyways. If I was to venture a guess, I’d say they were RIT students. Me with a college guy…as fun as it sounds, I just don’t tthink it would work.

But on the bright side, it’s a step in the right direction. I’m getting out and meeting people. And I’ve seen that I really can meet someone. Who cares if they were already taken? Maybe the next one won’t be. Only time will tell. And at least I’m meeting people and expanding my possibilities.

But damn, I’m still grumpy.