A close Friend has recently given me a bit of a metaphorical ass-kicking over the fact I fall for the wrong men all the time. Well, not so much that I fall for them as that I have a hard time letting them go and moving on from them once I've pretty conclusively discovered they have no interest.
The Waiter, Hot Boss, and numerous others (The Friend actually used the phrase "superannuated teenager" to describe some of them) have haunted me for too long, according to The Friend.
I can't help but agree. I need to move on to... well, whatever. There's a world of possibility out there, and by focusing on the unattainable men of my past, I'm missing a lot.
So, I'm trying to be resolute and move on. The Waiter claims to want me as a friend. Fine. He can put for the effort required to keep a friend in one's life and pick up the phone every once in a while, if he likes. Or not. No skin off my nose.
Did that sound convincing?
The Waiter, Hot Boss, and numerous others (The Friend actually used the phrase "superannuated teenager" to describe some of them) have haunted me for too long, according to The Friend.
I can't help but agree. I need to move on to... well, whatever. There's a world of possibility out there, and by focusing on the unattainable men of my past, I'm missing a lot.
So, I'm trying to be resolute and move on. The Waiter claims to want me as a friend. Fine. He can put for the effort required to keep a friend in one's life and pick up the phone every once in a while, if he likes. Or not. No skin off my nose.
Did that sound convincing?
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