08.14.03 :: 2:57 pm

I don't care how incredibly well adjusted and happy you are; you will always and forever feel a sting when you see pictures of people you used to date and their new significant others.

In a way, I'm sort of glad I didn't go to Puzzleboy's 30th birthday party. As pathetic as that may sound.

Each and every ex of mine (excluding the psychopathic British one, of course) is "the one that got away."

I liked them all so much. And I loved some of them deleriously.

And as they all embark on these lovely relationships, I'm sitting here in Loser Harbor, where the population is dwindling.

This of course is compunded by the fact that I went by my ex fiance's office to pick up the 2 months worth of mail I had accrued and of fucking course he looked so handsome.

They always do. The second you break up they become lovegods overnight. His hair looked great, his skin looked great, he was as funny and charming as I remembered him.

It's all just one big "OF COURSE!" dance. Well, at least it wasn't awkward.

In any event. Whatever. Some day there will be someone who will transform into "the one that stayed."

I got a call from Mark (!!!!) while I was getting my...area... waxed and he left me a message saying that he is going sailing for four weeks and that he will call me when he gets back and that eventually he'll be living in Brooklyn and that he hopes I have a good weekend and whatnot.

I saved the message.

Because. Because I need something, people. Something. And I don't know what.

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