You know me...I kick men in the ass. It's my role.
But every now and again...ok for the first time, um I mean the second, I slip up.
I got my ass kicked. Yep. I did. You must, if nothing, admire my perplexing honesty. Honesty is bravery.
"You know who" left me in ANOTHER restaurant.
I was standing there after he departed, other men circled like sharks... inching closer and closer. I could see the optimism in their eyes. "Now I'll get my chance", thought Bachelor number one. He walked up with nothing but compassion and hope while extending his hand. Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn't see.
I rushed out the door to chase after Mr. Wrong.
I cried in the parking lot. But here's the good news: There IS good news. I'm not remotely embarrassed, although I should be.
I get to have feelings. I wasn't actually sure I had them anymore because I've been kicking so much man-ass I'd forgotten...what it feels like to actually care.
For the record, caring sucks. That is, if you have the misfortune to care for Mr. Wrong.
He thought he humiliated me. He set me free instead AND made an ass of himself in the process. You think other people weren't watching when he left? They were watching all right. He didn't damage my reputation. He damaged his own.
You'd think I'd be hating men...but I don't. It's quite the reverse. This episode merely crystallizes how well I've been loved in the past. What's a little heartbreak after all these years?
Lastly, allow me to apologize for the "Wham" link below. Don't deprived yourself. Check out the bass player.