. . .And the boys that I fall for don't fall for me.

I hate to admit that I, like so many other single Mormon girls, have let myself be strung along.

It's so easy and pathetic to spot this phenomenon from the outside looking in. Things look a lot differently from the inside, however. We all just know that we're “the exception.”

But, of course, we almost never are. That's why it's “the exception.”

I was attracted to Non-Exception Boy from the moment I met him. He had a girlfriend at the time, though, so I was good and kept my distance.

Shortly after they broke up, however, it was him that started knocking on my door. We went on our first date about a month after the break up. I thought things had gone well. We had a lot to talk about and there seemed to be some chemistry.

But he didn't ask me out again. Instead, we just started “hanging out.” All the time. I should've known better.

You know how gossipy singles' wards can be. Everyone saw how much time we were spending together and assumed that we were dating. I never actually confirmed the rumor, but I certainly didn't mind letting people continue to believe it. After all, I figured, we really would start dating pretty soon.

Except we didn't. Our “friendship” sort of became this off-and-on thing for—pathetically—nearly a year. If either of us was pursuing or being pursued by someone else, we cut way back on our together time. As soon as our horizons were clear, however, there we were again, having conversations that lasted all hours of the morning.

I just knew he would come around eventually. I just had to wait for him to realize what was right in front of him. I was perfect for him!

Then one day a trusted friend was kind enough to sit me down and point out how pathetic I was being. It was hard to hear. But I realized my friend was right. Reluctantly, I pulled away from NEB entirely.

This lasted about a month. Then, right after OS left, the miracle happened. What every pathetically strung-along girl wishes for. NEB called me up and asked me out on a real date.

It was a “first date” like no other. He went on and on about how much he had missed me, how much he needed me in his life, how sorry he was for not manning up sooner. Perfect, right?

So we started dating.

Sort of. Something was off. I knew it, I felt it, but I wouldn't admit it to myself.

He dropped me within a matter of weeks. It wasn't pretty. I was so upset with him for stringing me along, for being so fickle, for breaking my heart.

And then I realized he was telling me almost the exact same things I had told OS not too long ago. He told me that he wanted to feel it—I was perfect. But it just wasn't there.

Somehow that didn't make it any easier.