After recovering from a wicked asthma attack, I am back to full breathing. I have been playing tennis and working out at the spa in Houston. My tennis instructor is super hot but still not as cute as the kanuck.
Any guy that can dance naked in an apron and make a killer osso buco while doing it, is tops in my little black book; even if he sent me directly home after wigging out during my little wheezing spell. At this point, I am trying to just understand his point of view. But after the hideousness of trying to get home after being literally dumped off at the airport, its a bit hard at this moment.
I am still a bit miffed!
Even though he was nice enough to pay for all the medial bills, don't you think it would have at least been the gentlemanly thing to do, to keep the phone by his side to make sure I made it home alright?
I felt as if he completely wiped me from his thought the moment I hit the airport curb. I got a text the next morning saying he left his phone behind and didn't bother to check his messages until morning.
I hope things just dissipate and all this horribleness goes away and maybe get back to the way it was, but I wonder, do I really want that? I am already a bit heart torn. I can't imagine down the road, when I have completely given my heart to this kanuck that he decides to dump me off on some curb because I sneezed too hard.
I hate the beginning of dating anyway. You never really know your certain someone well enough to understand their motivations. I always give the benefit of the doubt. Most of the time, it ends up swiping me in the face. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to just skip right to the middle of the relationship where its perfect, passionate, and comfortable all at the same time?
Maybe there is no middle phase for this one. I thought there would be. Maybe I read the signs wrong. I made myself believe he was the one. I really wanted it to be true.
I even convinced myself this was kizmit.
That fate brought him to me, carbon copied right from my wish list.
The perfect guy!
But then fate goes and smacks me down with the wheez, right in front of him!
Is it a test?
Or is it just what it is?
What the h e double ll?
I am sick of thinking about it. I have already burned my neck twice with the curling iron and backed into a bee nest on the veranda, got stung a few times, all because my mind is consumed with figuring out fates odd sense of humor or poor sense of timing.
Today I am turning off the phone and just doing a little more me time. After gym, I am just going to lounge by the pool and pretend everything is fine. Tomorrow, I will pack up, head home for Labor Day weekend and hope a party or two will get me out of my funk.
The Blonde is ready for the weekend!!