Jesus Herbie Christ, Mary and Joseph. What in the heck kinda rubbish did I publish? I just looked at my last blog, and it just had a random sentence that trailed off it at the end. What in the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t. I was hurt. I was crying loads. I was devastated.
I spent the weekend after my first date since the ‘break-up’ in a haze. I don’t want to date anyone else. I don’t like this feeling of even thinking about being intimate with someone else. How do I ‘move’ on? How do I pull an Elizabeth Gilbert and let go of ‘us’? Send him light and love? Fuck that. I want to punch him in the face, because I haven’t been sleeping thanks to the crappy fucking pillows I let him convince me we needed for the bed.
Do other people have these kinds of problems when it comes to break-ups?
Yeah, her name is Taylor Swift. She has a hella-hot new boyfriend, so there’s hope for me yet. Or not…because this is the kind of messages I’m getting on the dating app now:
My response was sincerely: Are you fucking kidding me?
Why do men think it’s okay to speak to women like that? I mean, I get it. It’s the internet, but still. Unless you’ve bought me a three day weekend in Barcelona, get your penis away from my golden vagina.
He blocked me shortly after, but not before my excellent screen shot skills came into play. That’s when I realized I was missing laughter in my life. No wonder my writing, my general mood, and all that is around me was becoming more and more complacent. I wasn’t laughing through it like I normally do!
Thanks to the Supreme Court, I’ve come to the conclusion:
I’ve never really been a relationship person. I don’t let people in. That’s what hurts so much about this particular break-up. This guy knew all of those things and chose to take me to a place that I have never been, then mysteriously disappeared like mother f’ing Batman. On the plus side, maybe I was dating Batman.
This week my friends have really come through for me, because they know that I don’t do ‘love’ or let people in like that, with words of encouragement and copious amounts of wine.
I’ve stuck myself back into my career, and well you gotta have a hardcore vagina and a boat load of strength to be a female writer, comedian, and general bad-ass. *see Creative Writing below
No more winging about, like a heart-broken lunatic. I was so down in the dumps that I couldn’t see my strengths. I’m not gonna heal overnight. There was even a moment I told the ex that there was no God, and boy did ‘The Big Guy’ knock me down a notch. My whole world came to a halt. This relationship wasn’t a test of my strength. It was a test of my relationship with ‘The Big Guy’. I lost faith in everything including myself. But in the end, we patched things up. I figured it out when God made it abundantly clear:
It’s not my fault some guy hasn’t realized this about me yet:
And until I meet Mr. Right, I’m gonna keep writing the way I want to write, with the kind of comedy I want to put in, no matter who it offends. Because this is about me, not ‘you’.
And yeah, there will be days that I see things like this outside my house:
And my heart smiles thinking of all the reasons I loved this one man, and why this is so special to him.
And with that…I’m getting my sassy groove back. Because it’s gonna be alright.
“I’m just gonna shake it off!” *commence half-naked pants dancing in the living room, and yes my giant bay window faces the very public street.
xx Sassy Lil’ Biscuit