I didn't mean to

I didn't mean to. I mean, I was minding my own business. But, it happened.
Not totally my fault.
She wasn't really my type. I didn't want to get mixed up with someone around my age. I would have preferred someone young and naïve; window dressing. You know, a chick for looks, but no substance. One I could manipulate and leave, no worries. No hassles.
But then again, those kind of chicks don't dig guys like me. I'm too bold; too sure of myself, and way too old.
I like to have the advantage. For me, the advantage was to be alone. Something comforting about wearing loneliness like a shroud around your heart. Keeps away the interested folks who pry into your soul.
Too late. She was there, in my life somewhere, like a sock you find in the bottom of the drawer. A match to the other sock you'd almost given up on. You're ready to toss it out, alone, when you find its mate.
Now that I found my "missing sock" I feel like I'm obligated to wear both at the same time. No more mismatch.

Yep. I found my match. But I'm not fully ready to be well. I enjoyed being miserable so long, it became my theme. I was like a country music song, being played over and over.
Now, it's kind of like being in one of those sappy fairy tales, but this time, the cartoon never ends. There are no closing credits. It lasts more than an hour and 45 minutes.
I'm beginning to think good fortune is finding me and I can't get away and be miserable like I want to.
Worse, I'm discovering that I don't even want to be miserable anymore.
I mean, I didn't mean to. I didn't plan to be happy.
It just happened.