When will it end...

I have bad luck when it comes to the guys I like. I am not saying they are not nice people, because most of the time they are, but it usually boils down to the fact that I am much more interested in them than they are in me. Feelings are usually never reciprocated. I should probably read the book “He’s just not that into you” or whatever it’s called. I know I am not the only one with this problem, and I am quite certain I am not the only one who makes this worse on herself.

You see, nine times out of ten (for the past six years or so), I have spent my precious time finding myself attracted to guys who either
a. will never be interested in me or
b. don’t even live in my vicinity.

For most of college, I was attracted to a particular individual who no longer attended Bucknell because he already graduated. Still, though, I was convinced our communication with each other was enough that, eventually, we could actually date and it might work out to what we would call a real “relationship.”
Result: not a chance in hell.

For the other part of college, I spent my time attracted to someone who wouldn’t even give me the time of day. I knew this from the very beginning, but something about him kept me wondering if maybe someday that would change and I’d have a shot.
Result: really not a chance in hell.

I had high hopes when I went to graduate school at Miami, and I actually dated someone. This is not something I actually care to recall as it could be labeled “the worst way ever to fill a void in one’s life.”
Result: refusal to even want to date so as not to do that to oneself ever again.

When I moved to Memphis, I spent a large part of the winter months interested in someone I had never met and who lived 1000 miles away. I only knew of him because of a connection to my beloved alma mater but I often hoped for a chance meeting just to see if there may be something there.
Result: I realized I am a total loser.

And here it is, months later, and I still have the same problem. Not only am I attracted to someone who will never feel the same way about me, but he doesn’t even live on the same continent.
Result: completely and utterly hopeless.

I am not usually one who wishes she has a boyfriend. Typically if you ask me, I'd respond with saying I'd settle for a good date every once in a while. Lately, though, it seems I can't help but wonder when this problem will go away. I mean, I know it’s a long shot being that I live in a city with 600,000 people (please note the sarcasm), but when is it that I might actually meet someone within a 20 mile radius of where I live that I might actually be interested in? I don’t even look that hard in the hope of the whole “it will happen when you least expect it” phenomenon might actually have a shot in hell of working out. I am not saying I want to be in a serious relationship on the way down the aisle, but I can’t help but wonder when I might just meet someone to have a good time with now and again.

Is that too much to ask?