I've just come from watching a show on the university channel concerning a reinactment of a mental health nurse dealing with a manic patient. It was kind of boring, so my mind began to wonder, as it does occasionally, onto my romantic history and the hilarity thereof. Generally the memories of all the feelings of rejection and confusion and disappointment rush back with the gale force of Katrina knocking an old plantation house for a loop. However, just now I experienced a rather different perception of what could generously called a less than success history thus far. I essentially did away with all the feelings of hurt and was left with this rather airy sense of disappointment - a great improvement. It's casualness was startling though. This incarnation of Disappointment was not that which was symbiotic with tragedy, but rather more along the lines of "You're out of chicken? Oh no. I really wanted chicken. Well, I guess I'll just have to go with the fish then..."
Essentially, I just thought (and not sarcastically), "Gee, I wish I hadn't have gotten yanked around so much. That kinda sucked. I should really make a point of not getting screwed over so much by romantic potentials. Note to self:..."
Hmmmm. Whatever. That was neither here nor there...
1 comment:
That was everywhere, baby.
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