I sleep longer to extend my dreams of him. Someday I shall learn that if he were worth the fantasies I would not have to be asleep.

I am guarded for I would explode if it were any other way and then you would have my heart all over your shoes.

I sometimes wonder if I will ever fall in love again and then I recall yesterday and realize I do it all the time. Falling is easy. Being caught is the hard part.

Similar to the invention of the light bulb it takes much trial and error to know what works. I could have saved invaluable time if men had switches. Flip the switch and if he doesn’t light up like a lighthouse… move on to the next bulb.

I used to sit around and wait. Now I just sit around and do laundry. I need more clothes.

If dating were not so awkward, we would all be single but then how would we know what a drought feels like.

Some days I have faith that romance is around the corner. Other days I come out of my chocolate coma and settle for a phone call.

I have been told repeatedly that I am a rare find. It would then seem that good men are looking for something more common; perhaps a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Most times my voice is encompassed in the fear of saying too much, too little or too wrong. Just right is as common as receiving flowers for hump day.

Crushes are like carnies. Just when you’re flying high they stop the ride and make you get off. If only corndogs did the trick but then I wouldn’t fit on the ride in the first place.

Sentences no longer than a haiku tend to be the crux of a relationship these days. If I wanted to date my gadgets, trust me, there would be no typing involved.

I used to cancel plans in anticipation of spending a moment’s time with him but now I just swing and figure if he were interested, he would join me on my playground.

I collected moments of him but decided to release them in hopes of receiving more. I was never good with boomerangs or Frisbees either.

It is true that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach but that doesn’t mean his head will follow.

I have been off kilter as of late preoccupied with the nonsense of a relationship. I wish I had a switch in the back of my head that would turn my wandering thoughts off. Then again, perhaps it belongs on my heart.

It seems there are always things left unsaid when ending a relationship leaving fragments of unresolved feelings. Clean breaks are for bones.

Waiting for the phone to ring is like watching a pot of water boil. Some days I want nothing to do with either of them and other days I want macaroni and cheese in a hurry.

Openness is a cliché. You want it then disappear when the magic happens. I’m not sure which one of us is the magician.

I tried to catch a hummingbird once. I could never be sweet enough to hold his attention. Perhaps a flamingo would better appreciate my saltiness.

The art of moving on is in fact not an art but a science like nuclear physics or microbiology. Unfortunately, the only science I have ever dabbled in is magnetism.