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“I’m not like all the rest.” 

“Trust me, I’m different.”

“C’mon, I’m the real deal.”

“You have to open up your heart again.” 

“Don’t blame me for his mistakes.”

I did it again.

I believed another one. Fuck me hard, and call me Sally…I did it again! And not on purpose, really. He was just so sweet, and said all the right things…and I fell for it, AGAIN! Dammit. I want to puke. I do. I want to just throw up my hands, and rip out my hair, and scream at the top of my lungs: OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE I BOUGHT INTO THE BULLSHIT AGAIN! But I can’t, ok. I can’t be mad at myself for trying. For wanting to find the right guy, for putting myself out there. Jesus, people. I can’t beat myself up every time some dickwod fucks me over, I just can’t. It’s the way this dating thing works. It’s the nature of the beast. I have two choices: I can either hide in my house like a big loser, or I can keep on trucking. And fucking. You get my point, it is what it is. And yes, it hurts. And yes, it’s hard to swallow. But it’s also how my life is now. And I have to deal with it…all of it.

So, Mr. Maybe was a bust.

I am sad. He was a good guy; at least I thought he was a good guy. I knew it wasn’t going to last forever, I guess. But I thought he was different. He made me believe he was different. Wow. I really felt like he was so different. Which is why when he just stopped communicating with me, I was so shocked. I still can’t believe he hasn’t texted or called me. Really? Just vanished into thin air, like POOF! Never even gave a flying fuck about me. Weird. And it stings. I like closure, don’t you? I mean, doesn’t everyone need closure in a relationship? In fact, I’m friends with almost every guy I’ve ever dated! I still talk to most of my ex’s…and I know their wives! And kids. And I just think it’s so weird. What did I do? I know I’m a royal pain in the ass. But when you don’t end on at least decent terms, I’m just left to assume the worst. And that sucks. And it hurts more, I think. But that’s what he wanted.

I’m hurt. You win, Mr. Maybe. But I’m a strong girl, and I always land on my feet.

So today, I’m talking to one of my married guy friends, and he starts giving me dating advice. Which I love, truly I do…Especially unsolicited. And it’s always the same fucking thing, “Did you fuck him?” (Like it’s any of his business) And I say, “Why does it matter?” And then he says, “Ok, that’s a yes.” And then he tells me how I have to “hold out” and try not to give it up too soon. I love that. From a married guy. Like, really? As if he’s even getting laid? Jesus, Married Guy Friend, maybe you should shut your pie hole and walk a few steps in my single-life HELL for a day. How about you try and decipher which douchebags are actually being sincere when they say they are “different from all the other guys“. I mean, maybe I should hold out. Right, like 3 more dates would have turned Mr. Maybe into Prince fucking Charming? Nah, don’t think so. Once a prick, always a prick. Withholding the pussy ain’t gonna make him magically Mr. Perfect.

I’m sorry I keep going on with my man problems. It’s annoying I’m sure. In fact, I’m beginning to annoy myself. This blog is turning into a man-bashing-hate-fest, and that is not where I want this to go. I’m really a positive chick! I love all things men. I adore them! I dig how they smell, and feel. I am clearly obsessed with everything male related, or I wouldn’t still want them so much when they shit all over me. It’s important to state that The Truth Hurvitz is NOT a male bashing blog. I love all you guys. And to prove my undying admiration of all things Y-chromosome, I have accepted a date for this Saturday night with a new fella! He’s hot, and smart, and younger than me. And I think he might even be different that all the other guys I’ve been out with…

Good God, can’t someone stop me? ;)

xo j

 

 

 

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