Post-Bang Blues
They say when you've moved on from something, it doesn't hurt you anymore. But I think that's bullshit.
I had such a good night with my ex last night. But it was twinged with a little something sad. We were getting on famously like old times, laughing at our tragic events of 2016 and reminiscing on our old times. And then the subject of dating came up.
So I've obviously been on a few dates myself so I apparently cannot expect him to live his life without love. I know, wtf right. But I didn't expect hearing about it to affect me as much as it did, or even at all. It not only surprised me a little, but it made me feel a little down. Now I know we can never be together like we were, because I've got a whole new life in a completely different country to him but mostly because we can openly admit that we're terrible together. Like swimming in the ocean after a vadge wax terrible. But I guess I've always subconsciously fanned this little flicker of hope hidden deep down in a secret little cubbyhole in my heart, that one day we'd find our way back to each other. And if he's dating someone else, that someone else fucker might stamp all over that little embarrassing baby flame of mine.
So I guess I'm not as moved on as I thought. And that shatters my little bubble of knowingness and somehow a small part of my ego. But then I ask myself, do we ever truly move on from love? Will I ever feel OK about an ex being with someone else? Does that really happen? Or do all the exes that become friends after love and the big divide just talk shit when they try to convince us there's nothing but comradeship left? All these things I ponder as I swipe left and decline couples on NZdating
😂
Having emotions is a total mindfuck. I think I'm gonna stop being affected so much and start being more ruthless like a feelingfree cliché dude. I'm gonna walk like a man. Talk like a man. Do manthings and such. Minus the whole touching vaginas thing. Think I'd rather have 59 million feelings than go anywhere near another lady's bushcicles. Boobs on the otherhand are OK. Like those portable stress balls receptionists use in their office when their boss won't leave his wife.
Aaaaaanyhow. That veered right off track. Must be hungover. Still. Cough old lady cough. Off to bed for this nanna.
Until next time,
Ruby xx
I had such a good night with my ex last night. But it was twinged with a little something sad. We were getting on famously like old times, laughing at our tragic events of 2016 and reminiscing on our old times. And then the subject of dating came up.
So I've obviously been on a few dates myself so I apparently cannot expect him to live his life without love. I know, wtf right. But I didn't expect hearing about it to affect me as much as it did, or even at all. It not only surprised me a little, but it made me feel a little down. Now I know we can never be together like we were, because I've got a whole new life in a completely different country to him but mostly because we can openly admit that we're terrible together. Like swimming in the ocean after a vadge wax terrible. But I guess I've always subconsciously fanned this little flicker of hope hidden deep down in a secret little cubbyhole in my heart, that one day we'd find our way back to each other. And if he's dating someone else, that someone else fucker might stamp all over that little embarrassing baby flame of mine.
So I guess I'm not as moved on as I thought. And that shatters my little bubble of knowingness and somehow a small part of my ego. But then I ask myself, do we ever truly move on from love? Will I ever feel OK about an ex being with someone else? Does that really happen? Or do all the exes that become friends after love and the big divide just talk shit when they try to convince us there's nothing but comradeship left? All these things I ponder as I swipe left and decline couples on NZdating
😂Having emotions is a total mindfuck. I think I'm gonna stop being affected so much and start being more ruthless like a feelingfree cliché dude. I'm gonna walk like a man. Talk like a man. Do manthings and such. Minus the whole touching vaginas thing. Think I'd rather have 59 million feelings than go anywhere near another lady's bushcicles. Boobs on the otherhand are OK. Like those portable stress balls receptionists use in their office when their boss won't leave his wife.
Aaaaaanyhow. That veered right off track. Must be hungover. Still. Cough old lady cough. Off to bed for this nanna.
Until next time,
Ruby xx
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