I was going to delete my previous post but what the hell? We’re all entitled to a sick pity party especially when the weather’s dreary, we’re congested, hungry and tired, and next week, we’re having minor surgery that’s only the beginning of a year of surgeries.
They’re not covered by insurance, not extreme make-over results, and we (me and my thousand persona’s) get to pay. Why am I doing this? Why am I in the second year of paying way too much attention to my health when it’s not going to make a difference.
Life will go on. I’ll still find reasons to be miserable. I’d go back into therapy–only was in it most of my life, but it’s expensive and I need a therapist who can cut through me and not end up wanting to be my friend. I’m very good at making friends.
It’s men I have trouble with. I know. Who doesn’t? Lesbians, and men who like women for two. Though even those groups must…
It’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship I’m beginning to feel like a spinster. The funny thing is that I really like straight men. Some of my best friends…..I just can’t get into the dating thing. Always hated dating.
Once I fell asleep, for a sec, into a bowl of pasta. Fortunately I woke up just before hitting the pasta. Wouldn’t have wanted to get my chin dirty. Couldn’t have cared less about the date.
Another time at a very pricey restaurant, I was eating salmon in a sauce. The salmon tasted funny, but I thought it was my date that was off. Not. The next day I was walking into walls at work and somebody had to escort me into a cab where I barely missed throwing up on the cab driver.
I really don’t like dating. I like relationships. But I’m so bad at them I’m scared I’ll still have the same lousy taste I had ten years ago.
I liked relationships because I only stayed with men who were good in bed. I love sex. Gave up one nighters a long time ago; not worth anything and meaningless. Now that I think about it: Do I want a meaningful relationship or do I just want sex on demand–my demand?
Have to think about it. Might go for sex without strings. Might not. Oh well, I have at least six months before I can do anything. God does time go slowly; yet fast.
Sex and time combined equal the new black.
Can’t think of anymore meaningless cliches I can make up without taxing my brain that wants so badly to be put on autopilot.
