I am so sick of sucky weekends - I can't even tell you. They seem to be getting suckier and suckier lately and as my spiritual guides are telling me, "Giiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrl, you need to get yourself grounded and do what makes you happy. Nature! You need to connect with nature." Well sheet, I thought I was doing that - in the form of a 6'4" hunky man named Mr. Clean. Pero alas, Mr. Clean seems to have gone the way of The Others.
Not going to write about that now. Too fresh. Too hurtful. Too annoying. ... okay... maybe I will discuss it, but just a little.
Saga of Mr. Clean wasn't even the suckiest of the sucking this weekend. Two words: Food Poisoning. How do I put this delicately (cause ya know I'm like a flower....) Listen to this song. My whole insides are cleaned out now. I'm not sure what food caused it, but by the time I got home, I was really sick. I decided not to to to the doctor right away (because I'm a dumbass) and so I suffered through Friday night and Saturday before going on Saturday night.... alone.... all alone... miserably alone.... sniffle, whimper... to the hospital. (For some reason, my hair looked REALLY GOOD at 3 am on Sunday morning when no one was around to see it. Shet. ... no really... shiet.) Got on a drip, then another drip, then they couldn't find some veins so I became The Human Pin Cushion, then I went home to a lonely house where His clothes still are hanging in the closet and cried myself to sleep. Pa-thetic. (I'll have to burn them later. It feels really good and I have a bigass grill....)
Put your big girl panties on and deal with it. No, no, put on another pair of big girl panties. Wait, food poisoning, you might need another pair. Dayum. Food poisoning is no fun.
... and as you can imagine, NO ONE wants to come visit you or take care of you while you've got all that going on! (I wouldn't.) (But again, for some odd reason - my hair looked REALLY good - when no one was there to see it.)
I had to stay out of work for 2 days (because you can't go far when you have "all that" going on). Thank God (cause I do), I have bruises all over my arms from the needle marks, so the management either thinks I'm an intervenus drug user or that I really was sick... (hopefully the later). God knows I'm creative so they might think I'm on the juice.
I have been trying to force myself to be happy for a while now. I was happy for short amounts of time with him, but overall - not so much. I need to reconnect with my happy clan and get back to the desert. I've been like a camel out of sand and it's just noooo goood, baba. I don't think some people understand this: Live and let live. If someone has a need to do something that makes them happy and it isn't going to hurt anyone; let them go. I don't cheat. I don't lie. I won't even look at another man when I'm with someone I love. I'll even BAKE. But if I gotta go to the desert and see some goats and maybe just maybe hang with a few friends, let me go! You can't imprison a desert girl. You gotta let her run.
That slut/bitch/whore Thailand has stolen TWO men from me now. Mr. Clean just wasn't the same since he got back. They never return the same, do they? Even if they haven't done the nasty with anything with or without a penis and/or lady parts; they still come back different. American Girl pointed this out and I think she's completely correct. Maybe it is the ego thing: that women (and some not-so-much-women) of all ages are over there throwing themselves at men like they are Gods. It makes one re-evaluate what they have at home. Maybe I didn't look so good (God knows - I did NOT look so good this weekend.)
We had The Big Talk this weekend and I think it may have put a nail in the coffin. I'm not going to relate what he said. However, it was NOT romantic, it was NOT passionate, and it did NOT evoke feelings of love. I did NOT want to shower him with hugs and kisses. (And because it was just The Big Talk, I did NOT get a ring - not that I was looking for one. Girlfriend can afford her own bling, thank you very much.) More like, I wanted to hit him over the head with a steel reinforcement rod. Iron frying pan. One of those Acme weight things that Whyle Coyote uses. And then... ladies and gentlemen, we have a runner.... He just left. No phone calls. Won't return calls or messages. (Wait a minute... is this Mr. Clean or The Man??? Deja vu! Whatsup?)
Stupid women do this: I blamed myself. I shouldn't. As Naz told me, "You didn't do anything wrong." I didn't. I don't see what else I could have done right. I didn't initiate the conversation. I don't even know how I feel about getting married (to his gynormous family). But it was like the elephant in the room. I've been surrounded by his family every weekend wondering when The Talk was going to take place. Then, when it did, it was so disappointing. And then he was gone and I was all alone with food poisoning and wondering what duffuq THAT was all about.
It's ok. I wasn't looking for love when I met him. It just found me and I went with the flow. I'm sure that when I'm least expecting it, it will find me again. What an amazing adventure life is, isn't it? You're in love, you're out of love, you want to kill someone, you get food poisoning, then you go on vacation. Awesome.
I'm going to the desert tonight to run around and giggle.