So, remember how I said that I was having really bad luck meeting people lately? Seemed like every one of my dates was turning out to be a complete weirdo or a psychopath, you know. Well, maybe not quite that bad, maybe just sociopaths, but you get the point.
Then I meet you, and it's like a symphony has started playing suddenly, and even the fortune in my cookie after our Chinese dinner predicts a cozy and rosy future (and I didn't even have to add 'in bed' to it). But of course, I don't wait for my chickens to hatch before being happy, and my world has now come crashing down pretty much like the subprime market. I thought you were too good to be true, and you know what? I couldn't be more correct. Oh well, life goes on, you would say. But I did certainly believe that maybe this time around, I deserved some semblance of luck.
However, I have to admit that this incident offers me both solace and despair, and at least for the former I give gratitude and thanks. It tells me that there still are people like you out there and the dating demographic is not completely as hopeless as I am often wont to think it is. But at the same time, it also offers the chilling realization that this may have been it, that I may have blown my once in a lifetime chance at everlasting peace and happiness.