The Decision

I have always asked myself the question as to whether Dreams are meant to be dreamt or realized.

It has always puzzled me how motivating one is to realize his or her dreams, and how incredibly one can become unappreciative once the dream is realized. Perhaps my biggest fear is to see my dream not live up to the expectations of my fantasies.

I could sense that battle raging inside of me as I decided to approach the beautiful woman who seemed to be the personification of my dreams and the answer to my prayers.

After a polite introduction and a sincere revelation of my desire to talk with her, I was invited at her table; as if to confirm my first impression, the conversation began smoothly as if we had met before. We were forthcoming, comfortable and eager to learn about the other. The atmosphere was conducive to our interaction and from one’s body language to another compliments, we were flirting without ever stepping out of one’s comfort zone.

If on the outside, I was proudly in control. On the inside, I had 4 to 5 alter-egos engaged in a intense debate: the one with the loudest voice kept repeating like an old record, the warning I had to hear: Do not blow this, DO NOT BLOW THIS!!!

How could I blow it? I had memorized all the key signs that indicate if a conversation is going the right way; observe the inclination of her body, pay attention to the way she crosses her legs; follow what she does with her hands, do not neglect the way she plays with her hair, pay attention to the lip area, do not answer your phone or text messages, and look at her in the eyes.

All this cues where right there in my head, but I could not make use of even one of them, lest again interpret it. I was instead hypnotized by her beautiful green eyes, I melted when she smiled and put her hand on my forehand, I became Gaga when she looked at me and timidly looked down. It was absolutely impossible to say if she was into me, but even a blind person could tell that I was way into her; she was beautiful, intelligent, well traveled, with multicultural awareness and sensitivity. She looked active and athletic, and spoke with the poise and softness that makes women appease the heart of the hardest S.O.B.

So enslaved by her charm, I became to wonder if this wasn't too good to be true, what if she already had a boyfriend (I never checked that)? What if she is really my future wife, could I live up to it? Imagine we actually hit it off, how will I make sure that I can find a way out in case it goes down? What if after a week, I am tired of it, how will I end it?

As she spoke, in less than 3 minutes, I had mapped out and covered all areas that would allow me to go in, get it, and get out. Suddenly, I felt a little more relax, and then came shame. It just hit me that instead of working out the strategy that will help me make sure that she stays in my life; I was instead on a path of self-destruction preparing for the worst instead of the best. I still could not shake off the thought that she is “the one”. I had to ask myself what is it that I wanted: Do I want to live the dream, or live the rest of my life dreaming?

I decided that I had hoped long enough, I had dreamed for too long, it was time to fulfill the dream, thus killing the dream for the benefit of reality. At peace with my decision, I managed to stir the conversation to a point I could ask for her contacts, learn about her relationship status and plan for the next meeting.

It all turned out well, and with our next date set, she excused herself and had to leave. I sat there deciding not to walk her to her car as it would have been too early. I watched her walk toward the door, and while I could have easily been focusing on the elegance of her strides, I instead realized that she was walking off with a part of my life that I was hoping never to see again…my single life.

She reached the door, looked back at me, smiled and waved goodbye. I waved back, in my head simply telling her:

“Welcome into the rest of my life”.