let them (and by them, i mean me) eat cake

In the past, the ending of a relationship (or almost-relationship, in this case) would have sent me immediately into self-evaluative mode, searching for which shortcomings of mine could possibly be responsible for my date’s unexpected and seemingly unwarranted departure. Luckily, I am done blaming myself for every bad ending, particularly those in which the “I’m not the guy for you” exit strategy is employed by the (still cute, but clearly somewhat crazy) boy in question.

So, instead of wasting valuable time identifying a potentially man-repelling personality trait and chiding myself for failing to remove it from my repertoire, I will embrace my now completely single status wholeheartedly, and indulge in the much-less-complicated life my lack of romantic attachment affords me. After all, pursuing a guy who wants (by his acknowledgment) to date me but won’t, is not my idea of fun.

I will, admittedly, miss the kissing of the cute boy, as I do enjoy that activity more than most, but I am confident that other, equally as cute boys do, indeed, exist in this city, and I will most definitely engage in some sweet lip action with one (or, most likely, more) of them should the opportunity present itself. Because, let’s face it, I’m sort of a lip slut, and I like it.

I will not, however, attempt to enter into any sort of relationship with any future kissing buddy, as endeavors of this kind are, obviously, not my specialty. And I urge all (six? Do I have six readers yet?) of you to remind me of this post next time I decide that limiting myself to dating of the One Man At A Time variety is a good idea. Because, clearly, it’s not.

The kissing? Good. The relationship (pretend or otherwise)? Not so good.

Now that I’ve chosen the kiss-but-don’t-commit route, I’m prepared to focus my attention on more important things—like contemplating my professional future by identifying talents and interests outside the realm of excessive apple consumption, profuse sweating, and painfully-off-key singing on which I can build a potentially successful career.

I also plan to spend a lot more time reading, sleeping, and eating cake, occasionally over-indulging in alcohol, composing more entertaining posts for this here website, running and playing soccer (to compensate for the cake), calling my long-distance friends to leave obnoxiously long-winded messages on their voicemail (sorry, guys), watching America’s Next Top Model (don’t judge) with my equally-addicted sister, flirting shamelessly, and overcoming my social anxiety by, well, being more social.

This is going to be awesome.



Also: the cheese—with her recoiling and her walls—is a genius.