Thursday, December 04, 2003
( 1:02 PM ) Rebecca
Don’t get me wrong. I am not a monster. I can be very tenderhearted and caring, when not mocking the size of my ex’s male members online.
That’s why I do feel a twinge of regret when exes stumble onto this site? Not only because they now get to follow every twist and turn of my love life (if they’re obsessive compulsive, as they often are), but because it’s not nice to be publicly savaged.
I myself would probably hide under my bed indefinitely if I read equivalent comments about myself (Dear exes, if you start a blog, please don’t tell me. No one else tell me about it either).
Anyway, the other night after receiving e-mail from the big L (a surprisingly non-angry, and at at times, loving note, but more on that some other time), I had a dream that I was a cold-blooded murderer who turned myself in because I knew I was a danger to society. In other words, I dreamed I was a monster.
The question is – am I? Do I need to stop all this boy bashing? I know you get endless hours of entertainment from it, but be honest with me – it’s not really nice is it? Yeah, yeah, I know they deserve it. But what about that "two wrongs don't make a right" thing?
God, listen to me! Church Lady here! Boooooooooring.
All right, then, the news you’ve all been waiting for. *Boy News!* *Boy News*
I’m tired of boys.
Oh wait, that’s not what you want to hear, is it?
God, you people are such vultures. Nice ones, of course.
OK, let’s see. Went on yet another blind lunch date yesterday. Despite the guy being big, burly, and bearded – I usually go for the quicksilvery, medium-build, dark-haired ones - I was quasi-attracted to him and his literary ways.
He gets bonus points for sending me an e-mail immediately after lunch asking me out for Friday night. Yay, straightforward dating behavior! Had to turn him down, naturally, but we’re now going out on Monday night. I’d rather go to bed early with a glass of red wine, but c’est la vie.
In other non-news, Melancholy Hipster Boy and I are cat-and-mousing, an empty, though at times, entertaining pastime when one is bored at work.
Frienster Boy and I are being very friendly – though not quite to the level of Friends Plus – but I don’t doubt that he might stop being quite so friendly with me if I don’t do some plussing soon. He’s throwing a gigantic party this Saturday, which will no doubt be distracting if not truly entertaining.
Note to self: Avoid monster-like behavior of early spring when I ditched one boy for another at Boy #1s birthday party, and ended up with neither one of them plus eternal guilt.
E-mail Breakup Babe