Why is it that when something goes badly, I have a nearly irresistible urge to share it with others. . . and when something goes well, I want to keep it to myself? Wouldn't it make more sense to keep my bullsh1t to myself and share my joys?
I think I engage in the kind of "magical thinking" you see in small children, at least on some level. You know: that somehow, by my thoughts, I can cause something to happen in the world around me. . . . something over which, in fact, my thoughts/feelings have no influence. Like when I think the Diamondbacks lost a game because I watched it. Or an example given on wikipedia: the child who believes "it is raining because I feel sad."
I believe that by relating something good, the "spell" will be broken, and I'll jinx myself just by revealing my thoughts on the subject. It'll either be as though telling the good news will make it seem as though it didn't really happen, or it will ensure that no more good come out of said situation. (Yeah, I probably need [more] therapy. LOL)
In years past, I have definitely been an over-sharer. Not with strangers, but with my friends (& sister). They have certainly heard details of my life--especially my love life--that might have more prudently been kept to myself. As I have mentioned before in this blog, I have a strong tendency to overthink and overanalyze everything, and particularly in regard to men.
Bearing all that preface in mind. . . . I had one of the more fun first dates last night that I've had in a long time. I met Minneapolis Boy for drinks, as planned. Drinks progressed to dinner, and after dinner we went to hear live blues at a club near my place at his suggestion. Conversation was easy and fun; actually, there was not a single thing about him that I could point to as a negative. (Well, he is a little shorter than most of the men I've dated, but I knew that before last night.) The mere fact that I can find nothing "wrong" with him is unusual and a little concerning. . . . . friends will tell you that I can find SOMETHING wrong with any man I go out with.
We talked, laughed, and even danced. He kissed me good night. It was a very enjoyable evening. In the interest of not feeling I have jinxed myself and will never hear from him again, I'm going to leave it at that. . . . ;)
Busy day planned today. Mom & I are going out for breakfast; I've committed myself to finishing my unpacking this weekend, and she's going to "crack the whip" for me. I need to make an appearance at a colleague's 40th birthday party, then pick up KC's dog from the kennel (poor guy). This evening my friend C is hosting dinner at her house for a group of friends from our law school class. In addition to C and her man and KH & her husband, I will be seeing other folks I really like and have not seen since I moved to Phoenix. So I'm looking forward to it; it should be really fun.
Once again, I am reminded of the fact that I am no longer a party girl. I went to bed at midnight after drinking a margarita and 2 beers between 7 and 11 p.m., and I woke up with a headache this morning. Ugh. I'm hydrating and have already taken 600 mg of ibuprofen. How lame am I.