Good Grief! My mom just called to rehash how lucky I am to be “unencumbered” by last year’s Cooking Partner. Tell me something I don’t know. I was just texting my locksmith about my new safety situation. Just in case.
Didn’t plan on writing about this, but when the inspiration presents itself, a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do. If you are expecting me to call him a big, fat, lying, creepy, tightwad con job – forget it. I’m taking the high road.
This was Round 3 with him. Round 1 ended with me thinking, “Maybe he has some serious issues“. Plus, I was in no shape to even make a grocery list, much less deal with man troubles. Round 2 was a tie; it left me thinking, “Wow. I can’t deal with his serious issues. Have enough of my own, thank you very much!” Round 3 – which lasted about 11 confusing months – ended as the holidays started. And I thought and will think forever, “HE AIN’T RIGHT IN THE HEAD”. Shoo!
Family and friends have threatened intervention AND a good, long stay in a mental ward if ever I speak to him again. AS IF. But, considering I did go three rounds with him, I understand where they are coming from. But friends and family, you have my word, I’d date a greased pig before that would happen. Correction: the similarities between mr. loser and greased pig are way too close; I’d rather date a … a … I’d rather live with 500 cats and watch Grey Gardens over and over and over again. Capice?
Back to mother, her nicest comment regarding the human lugnut included, “I think he was two-timing you.” Ya think? Crossed my mind many moons ago; also crossed recreational fun and games right off my “to do with CP” list. So sad, too bad, love dad. Gah! Gak!
Oh, meh! My high road isn’t as high as I thought. Ending this right now so I will not get ugly.
*If anyone spots a large loser with an Oriental rug, new luggage, gourmet cooking skills, and a bunch of other good stuff, please make a citizen’s arrest. He is an inventory criminal. Just look for a big old boy wearing fake topsider Crocs as dress shoes. Air-conditioned shoes …SO not cool. Oh yeah, and donate my stuff to Goodwill. Merci!