Chronicles of a Serial Dater

I ignored The Drip.

What a waste of time.  And I haven’t heard from Euro Trash, Normal Guy or The Ex-Footballer.  They all seem to be wastes of time at the moment.  Especially The Entrepreneur.  If he wasn’t that interested in me, why didn’t he just end it before he left for his trip?  And why am I bothered?   Ego more than anything else. 

After years of practice I have honed the ‘getting over a man’ recovery phase down to two weeks.  I can time it almost to the hour.  It helps make me feel better to create a list of their bad points.  He wasn’t a good kisser.  Pokey yet strangely limp at the same time.  I was in the process of training him by example.  He complimented me on the way I kissed several times.  And he had a hunchback.  Yes, really.  His posture is atrocious.  I didn’t notice it at the beginning.  It was when I was watching him pottering about his flat making us dinner it registered.  I think he is going to be in real trouble when he is older.  He’ll end up one of those old men crouched over needing to cock his head up to look up at people.  Absolutely hilarious!  Sticky toffee pudding and Valium help too.  But the greatest aid is getting under another man.  I need to get cracking on that one.

I am fabulous.  He is an idiot.  Then he texts me.