I’ve decided to call my new single life my mourning period. Oh yeah, that’s how excited I am about my new single life.
You know I totally get why things didn’t work out with Mr. Smyth, but it still sucks. Or maybe I was right last week when I concluded that perhaps I just suck at being single. Or maybe the real problem is that this time I don’t have someone like Ben to keep me distracted.
Why is it that for some reason if you have a hot piece of ass to distract you, all of a sudden the trauma of breaking up with someone miraculously disappears?
Where oh where is Dr. Bod when I need him, and why don’t I have a business trip to New York planned anytime soon?
Maybe I should call that beautiful 22 year-old boy I met in Tahoe a few months ago… Of course I deleted his phone number like a jack ass thinking that Mr. Smyth was going to surprise me for my birthday and we would live happily ever after.
I wonder if he’s missing me…I know he felt something. You can’t just tell me that he stuck around all these months because he didn’t have a warmer, wetter, tighter, pussy to stick his dick into. Getting laid is not hard, getting along with someone is, and me and Mr. Smyth got along.
I wonder if he ever let his mind wander enough to think about the potentional… I wonder what he’s doing right now while I’m sitting at home obsessing.
I can’t believe I’m obsessing.
Eligible bachelor distraction please knock on my door right now so I can fall back into all of my old habits and not learn anything from this whole experience.
Oh yeah, being single. Rock and roll. I need to call Jack.