Skip to main content

Nice to come home

 Nothing feels as good as coming home after being away all weekend.  I went places, i saw people and i did things.  I'm exhausted.

And content.

I don't feel any anger over dragging my stuff back into the house and cleaning the cat box, taking out the garbage and opening a window for a bit of fresh air while i unpack and put stuff away.  Because i'm doing it for myself, just myself.  There's no one dumping me off at the house and taking off to go see his friends leaving me with all the chores.

It's just me.

I pack for one and 1/2 (my 5 lb dog) and i go.  Where i want.  When i want.  And i come home when i want. 

Alone isn't always a bad thing. 

I drove home and listened to my audio book without having anyone be mad at me for whatever reason, without anyone telling me his friends didn't like me because HE had a temper tantrum.  Without anyone driving like someone with a deathwish while i was in the car with him.....

I'll drive anywhere now.  By myself.  Much better.

I'm trying to remember what i miss.  Can't think of a damn thing today.  I came home to a clean house because i left it like that.  There's food in the fridge, and there always will be because i take care of it.  Myself.  The bills are paid, and getting paid, because i take care of it myself.  I'm not wondering when / if his portion will be coming, because it won't be.  I no longer wait for a man to behave like a man.  I do it.  Myself.

My car isn't cool.  I don't have a vacation home.  I don't have a lot of toys.  What i do have is my family, my friends, and my peace.

So let me go check the dating site that i've been neglecting and see how i can fuck that all up with a man.

Not really.

Ha.

His baby mama reached out  to me again.  Not sure what she wants from me.  To commiserate how horrible he is?  What makes her think i'm the one?  I will never understand people.  And ...i don't have to. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Let's talk about Mr. Racecar

 I admit it.  I am a little bit excited about meeting Mr. Racecar.   He's younger- 53 He's taller, and bigger than me He has tats, bald head and long beard He builds cars/trucks and drag races - own his shop which is attached to his home.  ONE is a Camaro.  It sounds NASTY. He lives an hour away Now......here's what happens in my head:  What the hell could this man possibly see in me?  Why would he want to meet me?  He- owns a Harley but hasn't ridden it in a few years due to a car accident that left him unable to walk again until recently. He is a typical male in that some of his talk tries to lead me down the "lets talk about sex, baby, lets talk about you and me" side of things, which I have successfully diverted without him losing interest. I'm looking to date, to find the man I want to have a relationship with, not a situationship. And then I had to explain what a situationship is because he has only just started dating again, and he is ...

I love ChatGPT

 I am extremely transparent with my emotions because i do not have the ability to NOT be.  My only option when i'm having any feelings is to talk in a very low, slow, monotone voice and keep my face as blank as i possibly can. Unless they mean something to me. Unless i care about them and how they treat me.  So while i'm perfectly okay with never seeing or hearing from Mr. Cigar again, in light of his true self unveiling, I am overthinking my expression of emotions to him.   I took this little conversation and put it into ChatGPT with no questions or directions and this is what i got back: This exchange captures a painful and emotionally charged moment. Your initial message was heartfelt, vulnerable, and expressed a genuine desire for connection and acknowledgment. His response, while polite on the surface, carried a sharp undercurrent of blame and finality—deflecting accountability and subtly rewriting the narrative as your fault. Ending it with “safe travels ...

I danced.

 This past Saturday night i revisited what it felt like to be the zero fucks ME.   I had talked myself out of going out that night.  I dragged my ass around the house and thought of every reason to text my girlfriend an excuse about why i wasn't going out. I had many valid reasons.  Putting on real clothes, trying to make myself attractive, going somewhere i've never been all by myself to walk up to a man i've been talking to, but haven't ever met face to face.   Okay, Mb.  Just put on your sassy pants and go do it.  Nothing to lose, everything to gain.   But PJs.   No.   On my way I get a text from my gf, she's running late.  When i get to the venue I ask her "how late" and she says about 1/2 an hour. She's picking up our other 2 girlfriends. Do i sit out here in the car for half an hour like a baby when his gig starts in half hour, or do i go inside by myself (getting used to that) and find him, say hello ...