One of my worst dating habits is to live the entire relationship without it ever happening. I visualize our positives and our negatives, our pet-peeves, our eventual demise. Sometimes, the path is obvious and clichéd: the boy is a player, and we will have strong hook-up potential until he cheats on me with hot (but brainless, of course, do they come any other way?) skank. We will move on with bruises but no scars. Other times, the path hints at danger yet still tempts: an attention-getting only-child for whom I will fall much harder than him for me.

When I actually go through with these relationships (a rarity), I am (sometimes) correct in my predictions — and, instead of indulging the likelihood of any self-fulfilling-prophecy theories, I give myself a million awesome points for predicting the future (If you guys ever need any awesome points, I have so many you can borrow. No, seriously, if they were Kool-Aid points, I could buy like, eight TVs). With The Nice One, I have fast-forwarded through the beginning laughter to the part where I am bored and unchallenged and want to break up with him but don’t really have an actual reason to do so because he’s so nice and I like him as a person.

My propensity to avoid confrontation is working in cohorts with the future-predicting abilities. Which is neither a productive nor positive outlook on life.

Maybe The Nice One will surprise me. Maybe I will suddenly become overwhelmed with desire. Maybe he will be enough to stop my illogical and pointless crush on someone else. Maybe I will stop trying to convince myself that he’s not enough. Maybe I shouldn’t have punked out and screened his call yesterday. Maybe I shouldn’t have been excited to spend 30 minutes of my workday on the phone with The Realtor.

Maybe I should just suck it up and quit overanalyzing trivial details. It’s a goddamn date, not a battle to the death, I will more than likely live through it. And maybe even be pleasantly surprised. I’ve been wrong before. Maybe, just maybe, this is another one of those times and my-oh-my, wouldn’t that be amazing? Yes, quite. The possibility of positive thinking could be worth a shot, even at the expense of my cynical reputation; so, with my newfound optimistic attitude, here goes a positive affirmation (please don’t think less punk-rock of me because yes, I know you all do –ha, The Brother would die if he thought I seriously considered myself punk-rock): I am excited for spending quality time with this nice boy and excited for someone who will treat me well.

(Writing that was almost as painful as I thought it would be.)