I'm tired and I have another UTI. Seriously. What the hell? I ordered some D-mannose so we'll see if that helps. But I am actually debating spending time with a dude named Bucket and letting him stretch my urethra. Yeah. Pain makes us do crazy things.
I seems like lately I have been spending a lot of time talking about Mr. Pants. Not in an "I miss him" way, but in the "we used to be a couple" way. I liked being a couple. I liked feeling like I was part of a team, and now that I've taken off my Team Pants Jersey I feel kind of lost. I miss the secret language of a long term relationship. The nicknames and things that consistently get the other person to laugh. Hell this blog is names after one of those times. I miss making dick and fart jokes and having someone crack up. I miss going to dinner on a Saturday. I miss sitting outside, smoking (oh GOD DO I MISS SMOKING - sorry) and talking. I miss playing Uno or Mancala (the bean game) or Spinners.
My friends will say this means I'm ready to date - to put myself out there - to get back on the horse. I get several emails a day about Match.com or Eharmony. I can't imagine sitting across from someone I don't know at a Red Lobster. Talking about my job, my family, my failed marriage all while I try to decide if his penis should enter my vagina. That seems like a lot of work. And for what? Someone to laugh at my awful jokes? Seems ridiculous
But I am lonely, kids. I won't lie. And I am afraid I'm going to die alone here - and my cat will have to nibble on my toes to sustain herself until someone misses me.
What if no one misses me?
No comments:
Post a Comment