I gave up on finding Mr. Right a long time ago. I'll settle for Mr. Satisfaction.
I know that sounds horribly cynical, but if I'm anything, I'm a realist. We females grow up with those fairy tales in which the handsome prince rescues the princess from the evils of the world. It leaves us totally unprepared for reality: that most men just want the ol' roll in the hay with whoever is willing. After kissing too many frogs (which only worked for Miss Piggy), I made a conscious decision to think like a man. Enjoy the sex without expectations. That way, nobody ends up disappointed, and rejection is a rarity.
Except for that gorgeous blond hunk with whom I'd crossed paths a couple of times. Oh, what I wouldn't have given to get him into bed. I'll bet he'd be a 12 on a scale of 1-10! But when I finally had the opportunity to extend an invitation to me, he shot me down.
I immediately concluded he was gay. How else could I salvage my pride, after all?
But no, he's most definitely not gay. He's apparently in love with Chloe, and I believe he may have freed Rapunzel from that self-imposed prison of hers. In this case, I can be a gracious loser, even if I'm still a bit wounded.
I'll recover. I always do.
Maybe I should be gay. I could sure change my religion for that hottie who's engaged to Gabriel's agent....