440. FAITH NOT HOPE

I am insane. Yes. That must be it. Insane.

I am standing in the middle of my bedroom wearing a tank top and boxer shorts, sipping wine, staring at my bed – where I have emptied half the contents of my wardrobe looking for an outfit, “the outfit” to wear when I meet Town and Country tomorrow. Oh my God? Really? Get a grip Desi Girl! This is not a date. You are going to transact the mighty (or not so mighty) greenback. This is business. You’d be better off wearing a habit or a snow mobile suit.

If I can quote Greg and Liz, “he’s just not that into you”. Desi Girl, you know what an interested man looks like, acts like, talks like, behaves like. Town and Country once behaved like that with you. So why are doing this to yourself? You know better. Don’t you think you deserve better? Deserve more? Why are you pining while trying to impress a man who so clearly does not notice you exist? Or perhaps he does notice I exist. However, I don’t want to “exist” in the way horizontal way he wants to exist with me. Ah see – I am not insane. I can be rational, right?

But – what if – what if – he is just busy, right now. And is reaching out slowly – to see if he can find a way to work me into his life (let’s ignore the fact that I am willing to be “worked” into someone’s life). I mean – sure – he does need help with his house. But he is a well-to-do businessman in Manhattan – I am sure SURE sure he knows high-end architects who could help him – rather than me – a faux architect. And just like that all my rational-ness is gone and replaced with hope.

I just wish I knew better than to believe in hope. I wish I knew now, not in two years, that hope was setting me up to fail. Hope had me constantly reaching for something that was always outside of my grasp. If I knew now, not in two years, that embracing faith would give me a solid base from which to keep moving. That faith, not hope, would set me free, give me a better day and make me stronger – I would be able to avoid the pain that is coming. Pain that I KNOW is coming. Yet for some reason I reach for the salt and sting the wound.