The Meltdown

Why I Melted Down with The King: A Complete Analysis

I’m an idiot. (And yes, those are my real boobs.) ...with a little push up bra assistance. Ok, ALOT of assistance.

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Did you think I was going to produce a two (2)-page report? Did someone just say "produce"? King of Produce, get it?

Okay. I’ll give you the theoretical version. It’s less interesting then the detailed version.

Basically it boils down to insecurity and fear. Zzzz (Isn’t this blog supposed to be funny?) I wanted this guy. He wasn’t my “usual” guy, the one that flatters me so that I know where I stand. (Apparently I need it or I'll go psycho on you.)

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In fact, he never said an encouraging word, He climbed trees, he was just out of reach. He was strong, funny and in charge. He impressed me. I was born to kiss him. We laughed. But I was standing on quicksand. I kept jockeying for power, some control and succeeded at neither.

Why do you think men chase me…it’s not me…it’s that they can’t have me. (Damn,I thought it was me.)

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But that's the OLD charmaine talking.

Despite the fact things were going well I got scared. I was out of control. Cue the self sabatoge music. (Do I hear violins?)

So I started a drunken fight just to get it over with. I was an obnoxious irrational bitch. I don’t even remember what I said. (Don't combine wine AND Tylenol PM people. Don't DO it!)
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You meet someone and bit-by-bit you reveal a fear, or a pain. And bit-by-bit a man shows he's not going to hurt you, repeat whatever offence.

Then, just in case it's not gonna happen. You punch his lights out.

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Thanks King. And King? I'm sorry. Where is the reset button?

It’s about living and learning my lovelies. As my mother says, “Ach sure Jaysus Charmaine yar such a feckin’ slow learner.”