Bye-bye. Broke.
Friday, went to the cemetery for the first time since that awful day. I did not handle it well at all. McCain‘s passing and some other rough stories about friends meant that my August continued to be less-than-ideal.
In any case, afterward, my sis, her husband, and I went to eat some Korean food; I had the goat, which was pretty terrible.
It’s fine. It was a terrible day.
The boy’s been talking about Gymgirl a lot.
Mom: So what happened?
Me: What do you mean?
Her: He said, “Gymgirl, bye-bye. Broke. No more.” So what happened?
Me: (shrugging) The same thing that always happens to everyone, mom. Life. Life happened.
As for my talking, dating seems to come up with all my friends, quite often. We all agree on this about it: It’s the constant disappointment that wears you down.
JF1: Dating is definitely – reliably – disappointing.
Me: That’s the worst, isn’t it? You put all this excitement and emotion into someone and then it all turns to crap. It’s designed to always turn into crap every time…except once. And even then, at least with me…
Then again, she’s 29, tall, beautiful, and blond. I’m 45, and neither tall nor blond.
Still, in my head, I think I’m 12 years better than I was before.
Thought about about Gradgirl and my ex, No 6, recently. Not a lot, enough. Not in a romantic sense. In a, it’d be nice to chat, sense. Couldn’t sleep the other night – of course – and was close to calling one of them.
But I got up and made a batch of chocolates instead. Sugar-free in case you’re wondering.
On the plus side, not one but two different people sent me this article to boost my ego: For Online Daters, Women Peak at 18 While Men Peak at 50, Study Finds. Oy.
Yes, that’s crazy unfair, I agree.
But, you gotta admit: Life’s been plenty unfair enough to me already.
ABFF: Dating sucks. Don’t get your hopes up, Logan.
Me: Cm’on, lady! Hope’s all I got.
Although I do manage to find entertainment where I can:
Her: Sandi – with an “i.”
Me: Nice to meet you, Sandi-with-an-i. Logan (thinking) with a lotta baggage.
Her: (laughs) Nice to meet you, Logan-with-a-lotta-baggage.
Me: (grinning) Yeah, you laugh now, you haven’t seen my baggage yet, darling…
Ended up calling Gradgirl again, after all.
That deserves an entry on it’s own but it’s a story for later.
The insomnia is…better? It’s rotten, versus @#$@#$#@ horrible. That’s better by my reckoning.
Location: a train with passenger that wanted to be home
Mood: thoughtful
Music: I regret every single thing I ever said, I said those things too softly
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3 replies on “Logan with a lotta baggage”
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