I've been thinking a great deal about the comparisons between this break-up with Matt and the last one I had, with E.R. It's funny how two people can be so dissimilar, yet in the end, they both behaved in similar fashion. When push came to shove, they both shoved me away.

I remember how E.R. kept saying, in the weeks before our split, "You have no idea how much I like you." I think he said it so much that he scared himself away.

And Matt: "The last time I felt this way, I ended up married." Poof!! He's gone too.

I must give off some weird vibes that make guys think I'm going to suck the life out of them if they fall for me!

Yet with neither of these guys did I ever look farther ahead than just wanting to be in an exclusive, dating relationship with them. (I'm certainly not content with casual sex.) I didn't ask to move in or get married, none of that. I'm certainly not at that point in my life. I just wanted to enjoy things as they developed and see where they went. Yes, I threw myself whole-heartedly into the relationships, but that's because I believe that's how these things should be done. But somewhere along the way, I must have done or said something that triggered their anxiety, and they both ran in the other direction.

I can only hope that one day, I'll meet someone who can embrace the emotions I evoke in him and not run from them.

I know he's out there somewhere. I have to believe that.

Maybe I'm more of a romantic and an optimist than I give myself credit for.

  

There's nothing like 4th grade math homework to make a mother question her own intelligence. The questions dealt with prime and composite numbers. I couldn't remember the damn difference, so I looked it up on the Internet, of course.

Then the question was: do you know more prime numbers than composite numbers, and if yes, explain. And though I think I know the answer, I couldn't for the life of me put together a sentence rationalizing the answer in language appropriate for a 4th grader.

How red is my face right now, hehe??

Cody, of course, got as frustrated as I did, and announced his intention to write the following for an answer: "My mom is too stupid and she doesn't know it." Then he left with room with this parting shot:

"Get a job!"

I'm the Rodney Dangerfield of mothers.