Well, it certainly has been some time since I’ve visited you all here in my corner of the internet. It’s probably due to a combination of having so much to say and simultaneously having absolutely nothing to say. At least nothing of any significance. It amazes me how much the feeling of being overwhelmed can render me mute.
Boys have come and gone. Some have stayed longer than others while some simply refuse to go away. Relationships have bloomed and wilted; partnerships have soared and spoiled. And all along the way, I have been struggling to find growth–personally, emotionally, and financially.
I’m going to try to be better. Writing helps me in ways that few other things can and I know that I am doing myself a great disservice by not treating this space with the respect that it deserves. Sometimes, I choose the path of least resistance which often means you’ll find me lying on my couch with a pillow over my head in an xanax-inspired stupor. Ok, so I exaggerate a little. The point is, I want to be better.
The X. I just don’t know where to begin. He’s apparently dating some 22-year-old child. I’ll just give you a minute to take that in…..
Yup. 22. As in 8 years younger than me and 10 years younger than him. Lest you think I am blind, of course I can see what a walking, talking cliché he has made of himself. Next thing you know, he’ll be trading in his SUV for a shiny, candy apple-red sports car and jetting off to Europe for three weeks. Oh, wait. What’s that you say? The Europe thing? Yeah, he already did that. It’s cool though. I did get a postcard out of the whole deal. Mind you, it was never actually mailed to me from Croatia, but rather, hand delivered as he yammered on and on about all the amazing experiences he had over there. None of which included an enlightened moment of clarity involving wanting to work on his marriage. Nope, just a postcard, showing up 30 minutes late for our dinner date, and a fuck-you-I-traded-you-in-for-a-younger-model.
But it’s cool. I’m clearly beyond the anger, bitterness, abandonment, and outright feelings of betrayal. I’m going to be just fine y’all–I’ve got Jesus in my heart vodka in my blood. (And no lethal weapons in my general vicinity).
Speaking of my inner peace, she and I have been asked to participate in a panel discussion tomorrow on HuffPostLive at 3:30pm EST. We’ll be discussing the topic of dating exes. Should be fun. And if not fun, then mildly embarrassing paired with a side of resentment.
Come cheer me on, ladies!
xoxo
The Sub-Fertile Slut 