The first date..

[Date: Monday, August 14, 2017]  [Mood: Endorphin-ed]  [Song: 'Most girls' - P!nk]

The 'First Date' doesn't mean what you think it means.
Please, I'm not that much of a hoe. (contrary to popular belief)

It stems from an in joke between two of my best friends, avid gym attendees. They refer to 'the gym'
as 'going on a date with James.' Maybe it sounds a little less single and sad.. maybe you just had to be there to see the funny side. Never the less, that's where today's title comes from.

Speaking of single and sad, I am.

My boyfriend broke up with me a few days ago.
minus zero out of one hundred on the fun scale. - Do not recommend.

While it hurts like hell and I miss him like nothing else, I can't take another bloody minute of crying.
It's much like those stationary bikes at the gym.. Sure, it'll give you something to do but you're not actually getting anywhere. That, and you'll probably even feel an ache in your lady chamber.
(those seats are about as comfortable as a pap smear from captain hook and I told you, I miss him !)

Anyway, so an idea was born. The girls had been trying to cajole me into joining them on their 'dates with James' for as long back as I can remember. I was always firmly convinced that I was allergic to excessive movement. No sooner had I thrown the possibility of maybe joining them out there into the universe, did they pounce on it like a pair of carb starved paleo enthusiasts. (for the record, they're not paleo enthusiasts. I don't think I could be friends with anyone that likes Pete Evans)

The good news is, I haven't broken out in a rash, so that's something I guess.
The bad news is I'm unlikely to be able to lower myself to sit on the toilet tomorrow without great difficulty but I guess we'll cry about that bridge when we come to it.

Sure, it might have taken be 30 minutes to walk almost 3 kilometres but I count it as win that I wasn't at home, in bed, open mouthed, snot crying about the one star shit show that is my life at the moment.

So buckle up, kids ! we're going way back to 2007.. back when blogging for the hell of it was an actual thing. I used to be funny, I'd kinda like that back. I used to enjoy sending my random thoughts out into the universe, it never really made much difference to me if they were read or not and I sure as shit wasn't in it for the money. (that neatly explains my current financial status)
I'd like to think of this as a bit of an exercise in emptying my brain.
I might get to word vomit and you might get a giggle and everybody might win.

Random Monday musings:

I might have finished at the gym at 2pm but I didn't actually shower til around 8pm. Yes, I'm revolting but the only person around that's likely to care is an 11 year old stink bomb that firmly believes that personal hygiene should be optional, not mandatory. He's often threatened with the option of being pressure washed in the back yard so his opinion isn't likely to count.

You would think that being boyfriend-less would be an optimum time to just let everything go to hell by the way of your usual grooming regime, since no one is around to appreciate it, right ?

WRONG !

I find one of the best acts of self love is to strip the linen from my bed, replace it with one of my snuggly favourite sets (I have too many to choose from, it's becoming a problem), throw myself into a shower so hot that it threatens to boil the skin right off my skeleton and take my time getting my situation 'situated.' (that's deforestation or shaving ones legs for those of you playing at home)
Lets take a minute to bless the good lord for continuous hot water as it's often a timely pursuit., Amen.

Once the situation is situated, slide into bed, into those smooth, clean sheets like the sleek, sassy dolphin that you are. (another best friend in joke. animals don't come much smoother than dolphins, am I right ?)
sigh a contented sigh and snuggle up to a hot water bottle/dog/child secure in the knowledge that you've been kind to yourself and you did your best to kick the day in the dick when you were confident that you would drown.


'Íf you don't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else ?'- RuPaul.