Stupid dissatisfaction

I'm dissatisfied - and I don't think I've ever been to this degree.

About a month ago, I was set up with someone it seemed really wanted to get to know me. We hung out, went to barn dance, drank, and I found her every bit as interesting as I had hoped.

She was from Seattle, enjoyed black coffee, nature, and waking up early. She enjoyed my bartending and admired the photography I have hung on my wall. Perfect, right? She said she wanted to do something again, and then she completely fell off the face of the earth after a week. No response. Fucking wonderful. I can honestly say I did nothing to fuck it up. Whatever.

My biggest mistake wasn't exactly her, though. It was that I thought for a fleeting few days that I could be just as happy as my roommate is in his relationship. She's over all the time and I have no problem with her. But I see them together now, and I just get pissed off or sick to my stomach. And that's so, so wrong. I shouldn't be jealous.

I just want someone to hang out with on Sunday mornings: drinking coffee, and having a discussion about Meet the Press just sounds great. But how stupid am I for thinking, even for a second, that I could be happy? It was a comforting thought, but I jumped to it.

On paper, everything looks great for me. I'm doing well. But I'm clinging to the idea that dissatisfaction is just a symptom of ambition - that it's just fuel for the fire. Life goes on.