Pity pool-a-palooza

Happy Saturday.  I'm single and home alone watching the Olympics while drowning my pity in a bottle of cheap wine. Seems to be common place this month.

I don't want to wallow in a pity pool, but this is my fucking blog and if I need to get something off my chest, this is the place to do it.  So, if you don't want to "hear" me bitch and whine tonight, stop reading.  OK ... you've been forewarned.

I was thinking yesterday that I've spent more of my life single than in a relationship.  I've had two very short-lived, failed marriages which seem so long ago and foreign; neither lasting more than two years. The longest time I've been in a relationship with anyone - five years - was my last ex-husband and we spent most of that dating. Maybe I'm meant to be single? 

I don't really like being single, that's the problem.  Some people have tried to cheer me up by telling me that relationships are like a yard sale; they look good from a far, but up close it's just someone else's crap.  That actually made me laugh, but it doesn't make it any easier for me to get over this relationship.

I'm tired of "friends with benefits" or "no strings attached" interactions. I want a partner to walk the world with, share experiences, laugh, cry, fight, fuck. All of it. I thought I had that, I really did.  I'm having a very hard time letting the unexpectedness of this breakup go.

See?  I told you I was wading around in a pity pool tonight!  Sweet holy fuck. SNAP OUT OF IT!

The only time I don't think about and dwell on this is when I'm working, so I'm thinking that I may need to be a work-a-holic for a few months.  I catch myself talking to my dogs and apologizing to them for their "daddy" leaving us. How fucking pathetic is that?  They loved him too, that's the problem.  And he promised he loved us back.

So, to make a game out of how long it will be before I am "intimate" with another guy, I've decided to grow a jungle bush.  Yep, a full on, 1970's, get out the hedge trimmers bush.  My friend "J" (I'm protecting the anonymity of her bush) has decided to do this with me.  We're laying down the gauntlet and have lit the torch to kick off a "Bush Off"!

I'm not really sure how we're going to prove who's got the bigger bush when it's over or what the time frame is, because let's face it; I don't want to see a picture and I doubt she does either.  Regardless, we're going to make our bushes our bitch!  Or something like that ... Anyone else feeling froggy and want to join in, just let me know.  The more the merrier.  Let your bush flow free!!

OK, I'm feeling better.  Thanks for "listening." :)

When life gives you lemons ...

So, I got dumped this week.  Out of the blue, what the fuck are you talking about, dumped. 

If you've been following me for at least the past six months you know that I've been dating who I thought was the last guy I'd ever date. I was locked in and committed to this relationship.  Now, it wasn't a perfect relationship, but I don't believe there is such a thing. Every relationship has it's ups and downs, but I thought we loved each other enough to work through the downs.  Apparently I was wrong.

Although I'm angry, heartbroken and confused, I'm not going to trash him in my blog.  I'm a bigger person and I'm working on fixing some karma that I apparently fucked up somewhere down the line. I will say just this one thing: it's fucking ridiculous that he didn't have the decency to have a face-to-face conversation with me about how we could work through this and save our relationship. He ultimately told me in a text message that he "didn't think he'd ever be enough for me and that I'd be better off without him." Chicken shit way out and I don't believe it.  There's something he didn't want to tell me that would have come out face to face ... but I digress.

Thankfully, I've gone through enough heart break in my life that I've learned some good coping mechanisms. In between crying outbursts I work out, bitch to my friends (hello friends), drink cheap wine and kiss my dogs. It's a process and I'm on "official" day two.  I'll let you know how I'm feeling on day seven. :)

I'm not ready to start dating again. The thought of it exhausts me, but the thought of being an old maid sitting around alone, relying on my vibrator for orgasms scares the shit out of me.  I'll let my heart mend for a few and then give it a try again.  He may have knocked me down for a minute, but he didn't knock me out. 

Lemonade anyone??