 ARCHIVES
December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 February 2010 July 2010 August 2010 September 2010 October 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 April 2011 June 2011 |
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Cupid Is A Friggin' Tease It happens every time. I get home from a long sojourn overseas and I sit around at home, moping all alone, lamenting the fact that I'm not still over the sea (well, over the ocean, I guess). This time it's especially hard because I've had to leave one of the most beautiful, romantic cities in the world, where a particularly wonderful boy lives, and come back HERE - where it's not romantic, where there are no fresh baguettes (at least not the way the French make them), no deliriously delicious red wines, and while there may be many a wonderful boy, none of them are quite like the one over THERE. It's true and painfully obvious, I'm smitten to the core. Right down to my bones. You may have heard that I am most unfortunately and arduously attached. And while I was so smitten that I extended my stay from three days to ten, met his parent (dad was around and in town as well), went on a little trip out the French countryside together, and made plans to return in October, I've got to snap out of it. Because? HELLO he lives in Paris and I live HERE. He's also not as ...enthusiastic as I am about writing or calling or staying in touch (really? is he REALLY that busy?) so I'm going to have to stop obsessively checking my email and messages and definitely stop jumping every time my phone rings the long distance ring because SIGH it's probably not going to work out. All I have to say about this is: I REALLY hope that I'm wrong. And also: Wah. Waaaahhh. |
|
