As a child, you are meant to experiment. You try things on, dress up, pretend, play. Act out the world as a way of understanding it. You explore. The things that stick, those that you have a talent or passion for become your pursuits. The things that you failed at, that you showed no talent or propensity for or simply hated, you stopped doing. Why pursue something that you weren’t good at, something that didn’t make you feel good? As a child I tried many things on. I loved many, excelled at some, hated others, and stuck to few (foreshadowing, perhaps?) But the one thing that was constant was that if you weren’t good at something, if it didn’t bring you joy, you didn’t have to do it. Flute not for you? On to the next. Two left feet? Maybe swim team will be a better fit. There were countless options, countless niches to be filled, ways to be and feel special.

But the one thing I am worst at, the area where I excel the least I can’t quit. I mean, in theory of course I could, but the alternative is a little grim and totally depressing. This is what I think is so hard about dating. I fail constantly. Epically. So much so that I started this blog, and named it for the fact that I just couldn’t seem to get it right. Were this 2nd-grade ballet, or 5th-grade flute, or 9th-grade lacrosse I  could walk away. It would be alright to say, I tried, it sucked, I hated it and now I’m done. And yet…

And yet I have to keep trying. Because the alternative is too sad. Because to give up and throw the towel in at 32 feels too final and too lame. And, I will say it again, too sad.