I'm re-posting this from the other blog I'm keeping with my friend; I'm having a bit of a sad day:
It’s 9 days away. In 9 days I was supposed to be in Hell-ay spending a day with a man who I loved, but he didn’t love me “like that.” I was so excited that I’d FINALLY be spending the day with a MAN and not with my other single girlfriends… or a bottle of wine and a rom-com at home alone. Chickens counted too early it seems…
A couple of weeks ago after a particularly sad bout of self-pity on the couch, I went over to the bookcase and pulled out THAT book. As if I needed confirmation for what I already knew: He just wasn’t that into me. I didn’t even need to go any further than the index… each chapter heading was like a cold, hard look in the mirror. See that wrinkle? Yeah, you’re old. Did he just disappear? Yeah, he doesn’t love you. It was tough and I cried even harder than I had before.
This Sunday a group of girlfriends are all going to see the movie version of my life. I can’t wait; I’m really scared that I’m going to cry — will facing the truth like that be so hard? I mean we can all relate can’t we, but what about me? Why do I keep making the same mistakes? Hmmm? I’m not a dumb person yet I keep making poor choices with regard to men.
I had something incredibly witty to write about here, but I forgot all of it. Why can’t I forget about him though?