You weren’t seriously expecting some mushy (sickening) stuff, were you? While I confess there is a hopeless romantic looking forward to a good blubber tonight over Patrick Swayze in “Ghost”, or else, the sinking of Jack Dawson on the “Titanic”, she’s perfectly content flying solo. I prefer my goats. And chickens. And ducks. And rabbits. And, most especially, my cats.
No chubby cherubs chucking chocolates at this chickie! (Say that 5 times fast…) That would get his dimply little backside a nice long “time-out” in the corner until his dimples have to be rechristened as “laugh lines”. Keep your misguided missiles to yourself if you know what’s good for you. Take that, Cupid!
Maybe just a little. But, no, not bitter. Just happy as a single person striving towards her dreams. Would it be nice to share those dreams with someone? Sure. Maybe. I won’t deny there are icebergs where I used to have feet…a double dose of divorce (another one to tackle 5 times fast…) does that to you. However, I’m quite sure having a farm full of the aforementioned animals is the equivalent of having a dozen or so kids–they run for the hills.
And I let them.
Again, not out of cynicism. Or anger. And I certainly don’t hate men…I probably wouldn’t say “no” to Richard Gere but then again, you never know. As I doubt he’ll be knocking anytime soon, I don’t have to worry about finding out. And, for those of you who knew me as that seriously boy-crazy girl in high school, this swing in attitude is probably a bit of a surprise. But, you see, I caught a few. Sort of like the mumps. Or chicken pox.
All kidding aside, I wish everyone–whether in a relationship, hopefully looking, or happily not–a very Happy Valentine’s Day. And may the armchair matchmakers find someone else to manipulate…I got goatie kisses from Chester the Nigerian Dwarf last night; you’re just jealous. Yes, I’m being nonsensical. And, yes, I know this may be inappropriate for this particular holiday but “we’re B-A-A-C-K!”
May God bless you & keep you!