Yes, I fully own and admit that at 38 years old, I remain a big old chicken when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex. The simple question I should have asked when I dropped off Bernard but didn't because I said "cluck, cluck" instead of "what's your number?"
And rectifying that oversight should be easy. Just send Bernard a short little note. With my phone number. But I am flip-flopping on that decision like a catfish on land. Ugh! What the &*#% is wrong with me!!
Fear of rejection is definitely a big player here. But then again at this stage of the game, rejection should be on par with discovering a pimple erupting on my face - a non-issue. Somehow though, the fear's grip remains tight. I am sure there are other unconscious/subconscious things going on just below the surface too. Things like the Ghosts of Christmas Pasts and not wanting to make those poor decisions again (I hear fear in that statement. Fear simply wearing another mask.)
But I need to remind myself that mistakes are there to be made to that I learn enough to recognise when the right one walks in. I haven't really been on a date in a long time. I know I need to keep trying, being an active participant but. That's what waylays everything... the damn "but".
I am so tired of being alone. Just me and the two pups. I know I need to do something about it. Baby steps, as my darling therapist of long ago taught me, baby steps.
I need to throw caution to the wind. Write a simple, short note. Push send. And not worry. If Bernard doesn't answer, so what (right?)? But he just may. In reality, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Be brave, Patsy dear. As Nike force feeds you the slogan - just do it!