I asked him what he wanted to be when he was growing up. 
He awkwardly changed the subject. 
I offered up, "Well, I wanted to be a ballerina." 
He smiled.
I told him that those dreams were shattered when the kids started to make fun of me.
He looked at me shyly with hesitation and spoke in a quiet voice.
"I didn't want to be anything growing up."
I persisited, "not even a firefighter or police officer?"
He looked with even more fear in his eyes as he offered,
"I didn't want to be anything because I didn't have a chance.  I just wanted to get out of the abuse and the poverty and grow up."
He paused, "that must not sound that cool."
I looked at him, with tears in my eyes, "that's the best dream that I've ever heard of."

Here's an exert from Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert that really hits home and explains me to a "T":

I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men.  I have always fallen in love fast without measuring risks.  I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential.  I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself, and then I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness.  Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism.    (pg. 285)