I'm sorry if I haven't been a visible blogger as of the late, but I am still a writer all the same. I had a lot of issues written down, and I'm still figuring out how to dispense my notes in a way that will preserve my... my... what's that word again?
This one's written in the afternoon of June 27, 2006.
I don't think I've had bad relationships in the past. What I know is that I AM bad in any relationship. I just don't make it work. Let's say the relationship is this three month fetus in the womb, and I am, for all the wrong reasons, pro-life.
Okay, so that's a bad reference. But it works.
I have this great wealth of cynicism in me, and it surfaces from time to time to work against by benefit. See, this is how it works in the real world: Pessimism is not good in a relationship. And I'm his universal poster child.
Therefore, I'm not good in a relationship.
I have all this room for doubt, and I make sure I dispense it in generous amounts. I bitch, and I've had all that practice in cold shouldering, and then I bitch more. My temper trends, and I make for the best anecdote in unfaithfulness. If infidelity was a whiny little bastard boy, let's say that three months just ain't enough to discipline the sonofabitch.
See me in the pool hall in two hours. With the way I slammed the door when he left ten minutes ago, it looks like I'll be needing a lot of therapy.
At this point, I really don't care if he comes back.
We talked later that evening, and I cooked up this fantastic song and dance about how apologetic I am for being all that blah earlier that day. Minus this little intermission number where punches were thrown and hair was pulled, we still agreed to see each other the next day. I was unharmed. He was pissed over some other dude.