Unfortunately, I'm terminally boring and don't have much to say, although I could go on and on about adventures in dating people from The Internets. That, though, is really more frightening than entertaining.
I suppose it should be said already. I got dumped. I had my cold, black heart broken. My natural response was to completely recoil, to shut down and protect myself from potential pain. But then I drank copious amounts of Southern Comfort and cried on friends' couches until things made sense again. I decided that I didn't want to let the end of that relationship turn me into someone who is incapable of affection and trust, someone like him.
Now, I do little to hide the fact that I am, in all reality, a serial monogomist. I suck at dating. The whole process just seems so incredibly tedious and gut-wrenching for all the insecurities and awkwardness it brings, but I'm giving it a shot.
I had two very successful dates with a certain art director of a certain local company. At least, I thought they were successful. I just love when things click - when he's just like you, when you have so much in common you have to ask youself "IS THIS MAN A UNICORN?". But then, he stopped calling and I'm just left kicking myself for being so excited about something new in the first place and wondering what the hell I did wrong. I know that, more than likely, the answer is simply that he's a douchebag and I should leave it at that. Really, though, I am incapable of leaving anything alone.
My friend Sarah has a new blog about elevator accidents. You should go read it. And tell her to update more.