When it comes to romantic relationships, you wouldn’t exactly call me a pragmatist.

You see, my track record with the opposite sex consists of dates with arms dealers, flings with foreigners and agonizing, forever, over ancient affairs.

I even moved to the other side of the world once after a single Skype call.

These bad romantic habits (along with some recent run-ins with some former flames) have got me all reflective on my tendency to avoid picking practical partners for the thrill of falling for a fantasy.

This proclivity, as you can guess, has not been productive. In fact, it’s been downright self-sabotaging.

So, as I cool off after my latest flame, my thoughts are once again turned to the trials and tribulations of dating in my 30s.

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The first reminder of my impractical dating patterns came last fall when I ran into my Mystery Man.

After a couple of quiet years, the snake-charming, figment of my imagination popped out of nowhere and serenaded me just long enough to remember how much of an emotional sorcerer he actually is. And how easily I can fall back into my feeble fantasy where we live happily ever after in the motherland with our beautiful Lebanese-American babies, eating baba ghanoush under dancing cedar trees.

Trust me, if you met Mystery Man, your fantasies would be cut from a similar cloth.

And then came the winter. And with it, a very brief affair with a boy who happens to have the same personality type as my ex. In case you were wondering, that’s not exactly a good thing…at least not for me. Still, I entertained it long enough to stir up my PTSD and kick my ass into better dating decisions gear.

Which led me to my recent spring fling.

I reached out and reconnected with a former flame whom, for 3 years, I had lauded as “the good guy I wish I had pursued.” He had shown up for me in the past but I had been under another’s spell (damn you, snake charmer!). But, alas! The stars seemed to finally align, and, after a month’s worth of frequent Facetime, sweet texts and provocative pics, the fantasy of a prospective West Coast relationship started to take shape. After all, I would be moving to Seattle for the summer, so this actually seemed like a realistic pursuit.

And, this guy was actually worth pursuing.

But after all the hopeful, exciting, anticipatory build-up of our next encounter, the fantasy didn’t quite match the reality, and our reconnection turned into something of a misconnection.

As it turns out, distance, timing and high expectations can ruin romance before it even starts.

And, just like that, my bubble burst, my ego was checked, and I was back on the hard ground of reality yet again.

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So, what exactly is that reality? 

Well, it’s the reality that, at 33, my romantic life has been somewhat disappointing. That love has often let me down and dating apps have created a cold world of casual connections. That the pressure to settle down has now started to come from me and not my fretful family. And that broody feeling thing? Yeah, that’s happening.

As someone who airs on the side of open and optimistic, I’ve got to admit, momma is starting to get skeptical.

Luckily, I’m on a feverish path to self-improvement and, as I reflect on my recent romantic faux pas, I’m asking myself a few probing questions:

#1 –  Do I hang up my fantasy hat for Craig the accountant?

#2 – Do I say no to professional prospects in order to keep myself more domestically attractive?

#3 – Do I slow my travel roll in order to cultivate more locally-grown lovers?

#4 – Do I trade in my independence and sass to play the part of the damsel in distress?

The answer to all these questions, is, of course, a resounding hell no.

All my world travels and lofty pursuits and fantastical romantic reveries may not have quite led me to my life partner yet, but they sure have made life fun.

And, my stories much more interesting.

So, as I unpack after my most recent trip to fantasy land, I know this to be true:

The best love will come as I’m living my best life. It’ll be easy, right, and, dare I say…realistic!

But with a pinch of magic, of course. Because, what’s life without a bit of magic?

Onward and upward and all that.

Plus, I hear Seattle guys are cute, so…