One awesome day, I got back in from my not-as-regular-as-is-meant-to-be exercise and I was amazingly happy. Which was not meant to be, I made sure I wasn’t on my period or close to it because, i had had a lot in my head of late and this night? this night was THE night. I talked in my head with omelette… again. The conversation went well in my head as usual. In my head we both understood why we weren’t talking, we understood everything and I didn’t want to hear anything else really. But you can’t have an agreed break up that way… I
wanted needed a final break up, no take it backs or I miss you after a month.
And to that end, me and the omelette are officially over. Forever and ever. . For real oh. The name omelette shall never be brought up in this blog again. For real. Never. I can see your collective noses raised in disbelief. Even his were, and mine were… a little.
How sad is that? How pathetic can a breakup be when the two of you don’t believe it is the end… I mean Omelette was asking what I felt been married to him would be like… we had had the breakup conversation by then. But that’s another blog post… Okay, I’ll talk about the omelette one more time and it’ll be over forever. *sheepish smile*
I don’t even want to go to that bitter land of clinging to hope that all will be well in the end. Nah. The thing is Omelette is a perpetual optimist and because he still likes me he wants to see a hope worthy thing.
Oh, i like him a whole helluva lot but, I’m a realist and a bit of a pessimist… how sad is that? On top of that, whilst I can imagine what a marriage could be like, I can’t really see me as a character in a marriage. I’m really difficult. And weird. And complicated. Why in the world will anyone want to spend the rest of their life… THE REST OF THEIR LIFE… dealing with that…. Thank God for God, He’s the only hope I have in happiness.
But I hate breakups… I know I made myself sound very analytical and robotic, but I really REALLY don’t like breakups. i haven’t had that many, just 2. i wish i didn’t ever have any. but this particular breakup doesn’t even feel like a breakup. it lacks the drama that today’s world breakup has … the “bitch” that “stole” the man or the second guy I am seeing that is giving me the
balls (I don’t have those) liver to consider even being on my own or something… you know, that extra thing that makes you curse them out on social networks and hate them for life and call them your vomit…
Why can’t I have one of those? This one feels like the commercial period between your tv show. But never mind what it feels like or how tight my chest feels… fuck it in fact. The writing on the wall is the wall that has something written on it.
I AM FUCKING SINGLE GUYS!!!!! (breaks down into tears)
Yours in Vodka and arrows,
the drunk archer.