Dicks and Guns

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When someone pisses you off, drink a beer and go shoot something.  Sound advice my friends — sound advice.  This is what I will be doing tonight to let off some much needed steam.  After four long weeks of emotional fuck me over, I still have not completely rid myself of a dick of a man.  My lesson is to never, under any circumstances, lend out property to a man.  Specifically one who has been messing with my mind.  At any rate, I lent out a guitar, of which, I now must wait another week to try and retrieve.  So load me up, and let’s get skeet shooting.

This would all make more sense to you all if I had kept up writing through it all, but I didn’t.   Mainly because I was too embarrassed to admit I kept letting a certain man back into my life.  I was hoping he would pull his shit together, so I could write about the happy ever after ending.  Sadly, and not unexpectedly, the ending was not a happy one.   No, no, no — not happy at all.  It was a long, painfully irritating, frustratingly, annoying FUCKED up ending.  One I would like to be done and fogotten with.  However, Mr. Dick has prolonged the ending by one last week.  DICK.

In other news, I purchased myself a tennis racket last night.  I’ve decided to take up tennis, so I signed up for a lesson which takes place next Wednesday night.  I’m not sure why I’m doing this.  I have no one to play with once I learn how, but who knows.  Maybe the universe will get it right next time, and it will send me a great man who enjoys playing tennis.  As mentioned earlier, I’m off to do some skeet shooting tonight.  It’s a work thing.  We are part of a local construction association, and they put this event on every year.  I TOTALLY suck at it, but there is free food and beer — need I say more.

I’ve made a little promise to myself to get myself back on track.  That includes posting regularily.  I’m not normally one to let a man twist my life around so dramatically, but it happened and I need to get on with it.  I’m still reeling from the experience, and if honest, still a little sad at the outcome.  My hopes were high; I had liked him at first.  He was good at hiding his true self, and I was naive to believe his bullshit.  Lesson learned.  On that note, I’m off to change into something more shooting appropriate.  “PULL”

 

Sir Mixed Message A Lot

It’s here — the BIG F is finally here.       FUCK!     and it’s also Friday; I love Fridays… and the word “fuck”.  It one of those feel good words.  YEAH it’s fucking Friday baby, and I have myself booked right up for the evening.  Drinks at my place right after work with a girlfriend followed up with a Tinder date.  Look out boy — I’m feeling aggressive.

Mr. Asshole sent another text message last night.  After I specifically told him I wouldn’t deal with this by text.  His message basically said “hey, so it’s all your fault for liking me too much.  I’m a pussy and can’t handle emotions well.  I may have told you I was falling hard for you, but you are falling too fast and it freaked me out.  SO I lied about being hung up on my ex.  That was an excuse.  I wanted to put it on me, so I didn’t hurt you.  I’m not ready for anything this serious”

WTF?  Ok, he didn’t word it exactly like that — it was way worse, but that was the jist of is.  The guy is a complete mind fucker.  I had to scroll through my message to see if maybe I had only imagined all the things he told me over the past five weeks.  Guess what?  I hadn’t.  It was all there in blue and white text bubbles.  Message after message, he told me he thinks about me all the time, he misses me when we weren’t together, that he was falling hard for me etc — it goes on and on and on.  I’m completely dumbfounded as to how “I” was the one falling too hard.  Regardless, I told him to take a hike.  I’m not going to lie; that wasn’t easy for me.  I “did” like him.  Past tense intended.

SO onward and upward I go, high ho.  It’s off to swoon after another.  If I fall too fast, so be it.  The right man won’t care because he will be right there along side me.  Drinking a beer (or wine, or whiskey, or…)  smacking that!  Cause baby got back.