Let me
show you something.
Take an
egg in your hand. Its beautifully matte shell, which glistens slightly in
sunlight, is not flawless but it feels perfectly smooth in your fingertips,
like a palm-sized lopsided bubble.
Now take
the egg and throw it (with gusto) against a wall. You should now have a nice
messy splat, perhaps with a few broken shards on the floor.
This is
very close to what my heart looked like post break up.
As a
result of this mess, my newly jaded Freudian ego has decided to take a vow of
complete celibacy this summer.
It seemed
like the perfect solution to all my problems. Abstaining from dating would allow
me to focus on reorienting, on reconnecting to who I was pre-ex boyfriend. It
would give me an opportunity to learn more about myself, to release those
inhibitions and finally do all the things I wanted to, like write music (like,
with actual notes! And a staff!), or join a theatre troupe. And most
importantly, being on my own would allow me the time necessary to heal.
It has
been a month.
Boy was
this a stupid idea.
It wasn’t
so bad when I was going back and forth about whether or not I should finally
give the ex the slip. At least my mind was preoccupied with panic and sadness.
Now, it is
summer, glorious Tank Tops, Ripped Biceps, and Tanned Bodies Summer. And e’rybody’s startin’ to look
reeeaal good.
To be
honest I have no idea where this came from, as I was always a fall girl.
Something about the crisp autumn air, the earthy smell of dead leaves and
fabric softener, just melts my butter.
This week,
I found myself skeezin’ on five different guys. One of which was married.
And then
there was the cute twenty something that approached the information desk, where
I work at my college. He asked where he could purchase his diploma, all
dazzling and stuff, and all I could think was, “Your diploma? It’s in that
dark, secluded room behind the storage area. Want me to come show you? With my
pants off?”
But I
digress.
The
reality is that I am still pretty jaded.
I’m just jaded and randy is all.
The
reality is my heart is still very tender, and as such, I have encapsulated it
in a bullet proof box, and I’m not opening it no matter how much I’d like to
open my legs.
Are all
men like the last one? I mean, I know they’re all after one thing, that’s
expected. But will they all say whatever it takes to get you
into bed? Are they all liars?
I really,
really thought the last one cared.
It seems
like an excellent time to pack a bag, find a cheap one way flight to the Keys, and
perhaps accumulate a few cats.
I can see
it now. I will grow up to be Flaky Aunt Mav, the one who wears leather jackets with
flip flops, who travels the world writing for some obscure blog, and brings
home blood sausage as a gift for her nieces.
See what you
did to me Ex-Boyfriend?! This is all your fault!
Mavis Knightley
www.mavisknightley.weebly.com
Points: 908
Reviews: 76
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