it takes a year...

So being in the town I live in leaves you with two options, go to school or have kids.  I'm doing both, but on the subject of dating, the demographics are well....dim.  Few to date in the fortysomething crowd.  Anyway, while I've been pining away for the lover I lost, a pattern began to emerge:

  • Think of sex
  • Think of the great sex we used to have
  • Think of all the wonderful things he used to say and do
  • Think about how he broke your heart...maliciously
  • Rinse. Repeat.

So after a year of this masochistic thought process, I'm in the bank drive thru making a deposit and the pattern sex...   .....   ...just great sex.  Yep it was doubt....but its over. On the upside of over, I haven't heard a hypochondriac laced complaint about allergies, stomach ulcers or the old office in a year. 

Just me in my world.  Not unhappy.  I wonder if he would say the same???

In any case, it seems he has become part of the collective history and that is a good thing.  I'm saving my cookies for the next contestant.


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