When I first got this job I had an image in my mind of what my life would be. Granted the image was of an unrealistic Charlie’s Angels style adventure but the reality was so far on the other end of the spectrum that it seems just as ridiculous.
The reality being a tragic, single, glorified coffee maker and all round frump.
So I got dumped.
He said it’s nothing to do with us not having had sex, or the fact that I’m constantly cancelling plans with him for work. This was supposed to make me feel better, I suppose, make me feel like it wasn’t my fault.
Strangely it did the opposite. All of those reasons were things I could blame that weren’t my fault, without them; well I’m just a rubbish girlfriend.
You want to know the really horrible thing. I’m not really that sad. (That doesn’t mean I haven’t been weeping while Pride and Prejudice plays on a loop and I shovel ice cream into my mouth) It’s just, well that’s a bit of an under reaction for me. I’ve even had moments where I’ve felt like “Oh well, one less person to worry about.” But then I start to cry again and search for any kind of chocolate I have. I found an Easter egg that’s been sitting there for a couple of months. It was a bit of a weird colour…. I still ate it though.
It tasted fine I think.
I think maybe Oliver and me weren’t really meant to be. I mean he was nice and cute and all that but I never really had that flutter, that tingly all over feeling when we kissed. (Although I only seem to get that with men who steal, or who cheat or who kill people with their thoughts.)
I have the worst taste in men.
I’m going to bed…
…right after this Pride and Prejudice loop and about a dozen hankies. (Oh and I found some Kit Kats.)