I’m Not Bitter In The Least Bit. Also: I Am Not Dead Either.

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 clichĂ© 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!



12 thoughts on “I’m Not Bitter In The Least Bit. Also: I Am Not Dead Either.

  1. he’s the kind of person who really needs some sort of blunt force trauma to the head. It wouldn’t make a difference to his stupid behaviour, true, but it would make everyone feel a lot better. I do feel a little bit sad that he’s the kind of person who will never actually be happy. hang on… no I don’t. Any chance of setting fire to the postcard? Oh… and good luck with the face-off!

  2. Sigh. Men and their pathetic need to boost their puny egos by dating barely legal little girls. Someone should warn him that he’s turning into a ridiculous stereotype.

    Anyway…glad to see you’re back! I’ve missed your posts.

  3. Missed you lady!

    Men are so ridonkulous sometimes. I’m shocked that you are still even talking to him at this point.

  4. EWWWW 22. EWWWW!

    You know if I lived any closer we would be wearing wigs and mustaches parked outside that cray crays house right now.

  5. So glad that you are writing again. The Ex seems like a complete a-hole – hopefully there are better stories coming (and by better I mean involve pleasant experiences for you!).

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