of white horses....

When you are growing up, you hear beautiful stories about princesses, happy endings and how being honest with someone can lead you to eternal happiness... or something like that.
I opened up to someone I have cared about for almost 2 years. Like. REALLY cared about. I was honest and - for the first time in 26 years - I let myself feel without thinking of any consequences. No. I am not taking back my sentimental declaration from a few weeks back. I am definitely not taking back what I said, what I felt or anything else. I am glad I did it. I loved the rush of expressing my feelings. I loved the way he looked at me. I loved his reaction. I loved his phone call. I loved the "what's next?"... but.... to answer your questions:
No. We are not together.
No. We never went on that date.
Yes. We talk at work.
Yes. My feelings are exactly the same.
No. He did not call.
I counted down the days to... well, I counted down until I realized that he wouldn't call. I counted down until I stopped looking at my phone every five seconds. I counted down and told myself it was ok. Yes. I was a little sad, but I am happy. I am proud of myself for doing something I had never done before. The adventure is obviously over, but I still enjoy watching him eating his pb+j sandwich during 5th period. I still chuckle when I hear him laugh. I highly doubt I will stop caring, and I highly doubt that he will be able to forget the things I said.
I guess what I am trying to get to is that, like Taylor Swift says:

I'm not a princess
This ain't a fairy tale...
This ain't Hollywood...
I was a dreamer...
Now it's too late for you and your white horse.

There are no white horses, and I don't get the happy ending. Yet. And I am ok with that. I will have the story, I will have the memory of that night and I will always be able to look back, smile and tell myself that I did all I could. I will never wonder "what if."