Just when I thought it was safe to venture back into the water, my steady and determined lifeboat was suddenly surrounded by sharks and I had to hit one over the head.
5 and a 1/2 years out of the dating pool and I decide to pick my local Kiwi surroundings to venture back in. Fool that I am. Alas, I just don't think it would be any different any where else. This may just be my proving ground.
It's just that I haven't hung up my g-string for the convent yet. So there is still hope left in me. Hope for a guy who can batter up and swing for the fences, if not hit a homer. I am not looking for a homer mind you; how about a nice double-play, with enthusiastic cheers coming from the stands. And well this guy was more like a fat ump who couldn't call the guy safe at home plate. The instant replay was used THREE TIMES and finally the ump made the right call.
Yep, after three crap instances, I finally broke up with this guy's ass. I am attributing this to the mere fact that I have been here before and GAWD no thank you. Can you see the sign on the Garden State: Writing on the wall, next exit.
So after breaking up with him over the phone (don't yell at me, he was the one who left at 3:30 on Sunday to go avert yet ANOTHER crisis in the Wellington and completely blew me off and by Monday morning I decided I had had enough) I called Mom on the phone and whined a bit and then headed to a friends house, who promptly got me drunk and we spent the rest of the day lying on his living room floor listening to James Blunt. Over and Over and Over again.
Nothing outdoes the pain of a break up like the pain of a good hangover. This also gives one the ability to use metaphors way too much.
So in keeping with my determined sense of humor, TONIGHT: Salsa lessons. This should be interesting. There are no Spanish people in this country, so my expectations are not running that high, however I am going with Lyn and the humor factor should be favorable.
