Jock My Dating Life 

For Fucks Sake.

I’m in the strangest place right now. I’m blaming the weather. It’s been non-stop rain for days and it’s really getting me down. Plus it’s getting so dark so early and I hate it. Where did my summer go?

I think Jock was off today. He was on Facebook chat for almost the whole day and I kinda hoped he would message me. I even put a status up about not leaving the house for the whole day… A kinda funny pun but one that would alert him to my day off and the fact that I would be home alone. I thought it might poke him into making some sort of effort for me. Nothing happened. I should have seen that coming.

I keep going to message him. I start typing something and just delete it because I don’t really know what to say. I miss you. How are you? How have you been? Can we talk? I can’t seem to find the right words to tell him that I want him to fight for me. I want to fight for him. I think we should fight together. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because if he was going to fight for me, he would have done it already and we wouldn’t be in the situation we are in right now – it’s been a week and two days since his last message. That’s the longest we’ve ever gone without talking. I think I finally need to accept the reality that we really are over and he doesn’t really care.

The thing that sucks the most is that I positively hate being single. I hate dating. I would much rather just go to bed and not have sex with my fat, grey old man than keep having to act sexy for these idiots that I have no intentions of having an actual relationship with. There’s the mild flirtation with Number 5High School Bully, and Geek Boy has started his usual sexy banter again. We’ve gone into morning-text territory now. I think he really likes me. I’m actually having a good time talking to him. And why shouldn’t I? It’s not going anywhere. It’s not hurting anyone. He’s just come out of a long-term relationship and so have I… Where’s the harm in a little sexy text-banter….?

I just miss him. Jock, I mean. I’m kinda over the anger stage of our breakup but I still haven’t got to the sad bit. I’m still not crying. There has still been zero tears. It’s been the most anti-climactic breakup of my life. It’s actually been rather dull.

I’ve done the usual, expected breakup activities of course – I did my hair, got a new piercing, planned the next tattoo and got my nails done. I started working out a bit and watching what I’m eating, and I’m looking alright. That’s the whole point of the breakup isn’t it?

Of course, it’s clearly a catch 22 kinda-situation. Me looking half decent apparently equals complete douschebag men getting in touch. Fucking idiots.

So what do I do? Do I message him? Shall I just forget about it and move on? I know I should forget about it and move on but that’s clearly easier said than done. I really love him. And I miss him loads. I miss telling him the fun and exciting stuff that happens in my life and I miss telling him that I’ve had a shit day and he should just leave me alone. I miss his chubby tummy and the way he belly laughs when I’m acting like a right tit. I miss the way he snores even, and that’s saying something. Most nights I just want to stab him when he snores and all I can think now is how much I miss it. I miss his hands all over my body and the way he kisses me, making me go weak at the knees. What happens to us? What happened to that?

For fucks sake.


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