Wheel of Fortune

Fear not! This is not going to be another long winded diatribe about my musings on the intangible! With no real dating, action or sex and nudity! Okay. it is actually void of dating, action, sex and nudity. But wait, wait, read on!

So it turns out... date one was kind of a really stink guy! And believe me that is the PG version of what I want to call him.

I'd love to write a long, and it would be long, list of incidences and qualities to justify this claim, but it would be only for my own sick satisfaction, as you couldn't possibly be interested.

However of note was how he liked to keep making me feel insecure and unwanted by constantly putting me down and putting down the things i was interested in, beleived in and liked, and by constantly reminding me on at least a weekly basis that he 'wasn't sure if he wanted me'.

I classically stay in bad relationships with losers WAAAAAY Too long, Even my mum says it about me now like it's just a fact. When I say oh he yada yada and he yada yada and mum looks at me square in the face and without flinching says, yeah well love, you do stay in bad relationships too long, so maybe don't do it this time?

I do it anyway. And it was all getting to look a bit like the sixth instalment of a b grade movie in terms of BEEN HERE GET A NEW PLOT LINE when.... in a piece de resistance type of move, he lead me to believe that he might be chatting to women on line... on a dating website...flirting with them, and that this would be totally fine as long as he wasn't meeting with them, and besides i should understand because he isn't sure if he wants me and so wouldn't i RATHER he looked around and chose me because he wanted me and not just be stuck with me 'against his volition'(!?!?!)
WOW.
And then when i asked for clarity on whether we were exlusive or not, he just refused to answer, on some sort of sick and twisted 'principle' that i was being 'demanding' and 'a bitch' for asking. Wow. The depths to which people can plummet.
The depths to which you can NOT know a person! I feel like I've been sleeping with the devil and only just woke up to find that that pain in my side was the fucking sharp ends of his pitchfork.

Anyway, glad to be rid of him. It was a bit like when you have that piece of clothing, that favourite tshirt say, you know the one... didn't it start out as your favourite? mmm yes i can remember some good times, the day at the beach when it was just the right weight for the weather that day, wasn't that a good day, and you felt carefree and beautiful in that tshirt, you did! oh it did get a bit cold though, and the tshirt didn't do much to try and help.

Ahh but then you remember how it looked in the shop when you tried it on and you were having a skinny day... but humph, over time it's gotten sort of, pulled out of shape, the hem's come down on the sleeve and ... maybe there's a funny smell about it, something you should investigate but choose to overlook...

Oh but no yes! yes you do like it, you love it, the fabric is just your favourite, and the colour, you like that colour don't you? You used to... but now it's sort of making you look washed out. Oh no that's just your haircut, silly you for blaming perfect tshirt (you know tshirt is perfect because tshirt tells you it is perfect, yes, perfect, and never does anything wrong).

You put it on, you remember the good times you've had, there were good times weren't there? But you have to admit it just feels scratchy now. Hang on what DID you like about this tshirt in the first place?

Your friends, your dear friends, they've let you wear this bad tshirt around for a couple of months now you know, they wanted to like it, but they heard how it let you down, they couldn't justify away it's letting you down the way you could, until finally they've seen enough tears and look you in the eyes, with all that delicious and perfect best friend love and say: dude, i just, that tshirt is a DISASTER. (actual quote). You deserve ALOT better.

And finally, you look in the mirror and you see yourself standing in the ugliest fucking tshirt you have ever seen, and it dawns on you that you do NOT love this tshirt, this tshirt is oppressing you, it is making your life worse, and it is holding you back from being your true self and having real happiness with a really, REALLY good tshirt. And it has been left in the washing machine too long and it fucking stinks like vomit. And you feel like a sufragette, like joan of fucking arc, like Ripley in Aliens, tearing that motherfucking tshirt off and setting it on fire.

Sorry, where was I?

So the upside to that, well, the other upside, because it seems to have only upsides, is that I am officially back on the DWOF!!!

That's right: The Dating Wheel Of FORTUNE!!!!!!

I can feel the hot babes just waiting out there to be plucked
the hot, intelligent, emotionally grown up babes, who know how to treat a girl right... hanging from the ripe on the tree of singleness (in a nice, non scary-film sort of way)
I can see lana cocroft in her pretty shiny dress with her hair just so nice smiling at me as she spiiiiiiins the wheel for me, and that fated wheel spins, and those flacky flaps go flackety flack... and i wait to see what prize will be mine!
Wow that sounds like it needs a muahaha and a dracula. heh. heh.

So if any you'se fulla's gotta a sweet mate with most of his teef, can you flick him my celly digits cuz i'm keen for a root and a stubby ahy cuz.

Fuck. i'm kidding but i have to leave that line in cause i like to not really edit.

My Adonis awaits me...

:D