A Slight Interruption To My Kissing Anecdotes

Before any of you nonexistent readers become up in arms that I am postponing my post on kissing Guyman, please understand that there is a gun to my head and a bomb strapped to my chest, and I may die if this post is not completed first. I kid, but I have something I need to write about first. Due, once again, to recent upheavals in my life, I find myself utterly single. Why? Well, I don't know. In truth, the guys who break up with me never seem to have a decent answer. And I'm sorry if I hear relenting from any of them over this post, but "It's not you, it's me." is not a decent answer. It would be unacceptable to use that answer if you used that on any other occasion. Don't believe me? Some examples:

"Did you forget to feed my dog while I was away?"

"It's not you, it's me."

"Of course it's you! My dog is hungry you idiot! You forgot to feed him! Now give me a decent answer as to why!"

Questions should not be case-sensitive and I refuse to treat them as such. Which is why I was slightly miffed this afternoon when Mr. Weston texted me telling me that he wasn't ready for a relationship and 'it's not you, it's me.'

"Is there another girl?"

"No."

"Did I go too far too fast?"

"No."

"We can't just go on a few casual dates and see where it leads? I'm not asking for something serious here, Mr. Weston."

"I don't know. I'm just very confused."

So was I. I couldn't fathom what I had done wrong. Two rejections in two months. . .I didn't expect to be hurt again so soon. This cut wasn't so deep, it's true, but it made me wish as I drove home from All Shook Up that Guyman had been there to hold me and tell me it really was going to be okay. This wish made no sense as:

1. Guyman completely shattered my heart a month ago.

2.Guyman would have likely been jealous of Mr. Weston, causing me tears anyway.

3.Guyman was unlikely to ever genuinely hug me again.

4.Half the reason Mr. Weston and I spent so much time together was because Guyman left me.

5.I've spent decent chunks of time brainstorming creative ways to kick Guyman in the face.

Nevertheless, that wish just made me upset, because that was the immediate response when I realized I wasn't going to change Mr. Weston's mind. I was a little bird who was pushed out of the nest, thankfully with a friend. The friend fell to the ground because his wings were weak and when I struggled my way back home, I realized it was no longer there. What is a little bird to do?

Please God, don't let me get eaten on the forest floor.