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From the ghost land of the easy life.

17 January 2006

bring your chains your lips of tragedy and fall into my arms :
I went for 'coffee' all alone. The musician is online but not talking to me. I hate dating. Men lie and lie and lie. It's obvious and true, that '6 foot' means short. 'Gorgeous' means my mama likes me and 'I want soemone who knows what she wants' means I'm afraid of girls and if you approach me I'll run away. Does no one mean what they say, says waht the mean and isn't the least bit bullshitting for the sake of having a laugh at my expense. Am I the only perosn who feels this way. I guess so since it's been cricket central here again. Oh well.

So men as the tease - have any thoughts?

Anyways I'm peeved. I ran off there to meet someone, who IF he showed up, was totally NOT as advertised. I don't lie. I tell the men I'm married, still, but am getting divorced. I say I'm plus sized, and I mean it too. I don't lie and I don't play that much. I do a little. There's this one guy I've got on the backburner that I haven't been able to meet up with and I'm sure he's thinking I'm a prize bitch. It seems my birthday party may be going down the drain so I can probably fit him in Thursday or Friday for a 'coffee'. If he's not written me off.

Ah the karma of dating. I just want the fairtale ending I was promised when Disney and the card companies poisoned my brain with the movies Sleeping ABeauty and Cinderella and Valentines' Day. I have the sickness. I admit it. I need a program. Know any good ones? Hopeless Romantics need a 12 step too. I need someone to throw me in a bootcamp so I can lose weight and these useless romantic notions I have. I need Dr Phil to follow me around dispensing tough advice so I lose my rose coloured glasses about people and how they are. People lie, an awful lot, to me. I don't know what it is baout me that screams LIE to me. But right now. IF I had a superpower, it would be the ability to make someone lying to me explode. Yea, it'd be messy but it would be SO satisfying.

Keep blogging.
ghost writer Ambrrrr at 12:19 AM

MenTal fUrbAll