Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Not f**k myself in the head with stupid men
Reason #3,246 why I love Email Boy:
That I can effectively win an argument with the statement 'yer mom'.
Present Mood: Disillusioned
It has not been a good week for men in my world. Other than, obviously, my beloved Email Boy, and a wonderful friend that I had dinner with on Thursday (whom is uncomfortable with me blogging about the evening, so I shall refrain), men have done nothing but disappoint this week. Ones that I thought of as decent are not so much, and ones that I knew were pretty skanky are even more so.
Not to mention, I am still frustrated with Oscar.
We haven't spoken since I left his place on Wednesday morning after a long and harrowing evening, and even though everything was technically resolved- something still nags. It pulls on my sleeve, does a little attention getting cough and says, 'Chloe. He's not good enough for you. He'll never be what you want. Distance yourself. Fortify your defenses. Get out before he really hurts you.'
Because, mother of god, am I afraid of getting hurt.
There's got to be place between Constant-Hurt-Because-I'm-Continually-Trusting-The Wrong-Men and So-Cynical-And-Closed-Off-That-My-Heart-And-Vagina-Have-Been-Untouched-For-Seemingly-Centuries.
My Happy Medium, where are you?
And WHY? WHY? did the universe suddenly send my Long Lost College Best Friend back into my life, complete with a myspace page filled to gills with pictures of him and his beautiful wife and their beautiful son. What is the point of reminding me of the best friend that I loved FERVENTLY and is still one of the Top 5 People that I Have Been The Closest to in My Lifetime?
Yes, Universe, I know that there good men out there and that he's one of them. But Universe, remember how The Good Ones never want to be involved with me romantically? Sure, they love me to pieces and I inevitably become their best friend, but it never goes further than that, because Universe, let's just face it- you hate me. After my years of nothing but horrific luck where men are concerned, that point has been driven home.
So please. Don't send any more really fabulous men back into my life that have left their mark on me indelibly, but then married somebody else.
I don't like it. It's not fun.
Today's Title: Tears Dry On Their Own by Amy Winehouse
That I can effectively win an argument with the statement 'yer mom'.
Present Mood: Disillusioned
It has not been a good week for men in my world. Other than, obviously, my beloved Email Boy, and a wonderful friend that I had dinner with on Thursday (whom is uncomfortable with me blogging about the evening, so I shall refrain), men have done nothing but disappoint this week. Ones that I thought of as decent are not so much, and ones that I knew were pretty skanky are even more so.
Not to mention, I am still frustrated with Oscar.
We haven't spoken since I left his place on Wednesday morning after a long and harrowing evening, and even though everything was technically resolved- something still nags. It pulls on my sleeve, does a little attention getting cough and says, 'Chloe. He's not good enough for you. He'll never be what you want. Distance yourself. Fortify your defenses. Get out before he really hurts you.'
Because, mother of god, am I afraid of getting hurt.
There's got to be place between Constant-Hurt-Because-I'm-Continually-Trusting-The Wrong-Men and So-Cynical-And-Closed-Off-That-My-Heart-And-Vagina-Have-Been-Untouched-For-Seemingly-Centuries.
My Happy Medium, where are you?
And WHY? WHY? did the universe suddenly send my Long Lost College Best Friend back into my life, complete with a myspace page filled to gills with pictures of him and his beautiful wife and their beautiful son. What is the point of reminding me of the best friend that I loved FERVENTLY and is still one of the Top 5 People that I Have Been The Closest to in My Lifetime?
Yes, Universe, I know that there good men out there and that he's one of them. But Universe, remember how The Good Ones never want to be involved with me romantically? Sure, they love me to pieces and I inevitably become their best friend, but it never goes further than that, because Universe, let's just face it- you hate me. After my years of nothing but horrific luck where men are concerned, that point has been driven home.
So please. Don't send any more really fabulous men back into my life that have left their mark on me indelibly, but then married somebody else.
I don't like it. It's not fun.
Today's Title: Tears Dry On Their Own by Amy Winehouse
Labels: Oscar
Posted by Chloe
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