It’s been a while since I’ve looked at the phone, willing it to ring, willing the person on the other side to say “Yes, you are the chosen one”. Trying to play it cool; not seeming overly awkward with how much I want to be that chosen one, not seeming too desperate. Trying to give off the image of a cool collected individual instead of a wretched desperate woman begging to be accepted. Ahem. That never happened.
In the past, it was jobs, it was boys, it was competitions I was never destined to win. There was a mixture of acceptance and rejection over the years; none as bad as the ones who never called at all. I tried to retain the illusion of sanity, of nonchalance, of being too busy to care. Then I became a Mammy, and my hormones went nuts and haven’t really allowed me to perform this illusion as perfectly. Perhaps I should have stuck with the drama degree. Read More