Dooming myself

I will find love, just not for a very long time, according to Tarot cards. At first, I was indignant. How could Tarot cards know when I'll fall in love? It seemed definite, final. That I was told the cards' predictions aren't forgone conclusions didn't help. The cards just show what will happen if I continue down the path I'm currently on, the reader explained. Still sounded like doom to me. No way am I doing anything wrong, I told myself. It's guys and their historical penchant for being, well, too dumb to realize I'm here. I brooded over my decision to have my cards read in the first place. In my mind, it would have been better to have no idea that love has no intention of finding me or of me finding it and go on my merry way without feeling like the universe is against me. Then, this weekend I realized maybe I'm being dense and not helping myself any. Granted, bars are notorious for being bad places to meet men, but it was in one that a guy came over to stand next to me. "We're trying to figure out where we know you from," the guy, who was totally my type, said, waving vaguely toward his friends at the other end of the bar. "I'm from Virginia; you wouldn't," I said. What on earth was I thinking? Attractive men rarely approach me, and there I went ruining it. A simple, "Maybe. Where do you think you know me from?" Would have sufficed. But no. I had to shut down the conversation before it even happened. Go, Tarot cards. You might be right after all.