I am for all intents and purposes a dreamer. For about as long as I can remember I have envisioned what my ideal husband would look like, what kind of wedding dress I'd have, where we'd live, but I never by any means thought I'd find these things. I have always treated them as just what they are, fairy tales. No more real than the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. Don't get me wrong, I believe in the fairy tale for other people, and I am convinced that every person has a mate. I just know that my chances of finding mine are about as likely as clouds that rain money. You may say I'm a cynic. I like to call myself a realist. Why excite myself over something that will inevitably break my heart and most likely won't even happen at all?

I see my friends finding these terrific men, feeling the excitement and joy of a new relationship, hoping that maybe this time he will be The One. Just like all the others before them, these relationships too will get old, wither, and die. This too shall pass.

While I do believe in mates and sharing connections, I guess I don't really believe in soulmates. I think that people become attracted to each other and begin to get comfortable, so much so that they decide to get married. And then it's history that keeps them together more than anything else, hardships and triumphs, children, a house, a couple of cars. The relief at being able to share this crazy life with someone.

I like being on my own, though, no boyfriend to explain to, no guilt to feel at finding someone else attractive, no having to share my covers at night, which is a good thing too, 'cause I'm a cover hog.

But sometimes. . .I wonder if I'd need so many blankets if I have someone next to me keeping me warm.