Holy ovaries, people — I truly lost my shit yesterday. I hate to do that girly shit and say that I was all hormonal (akin to it was the alcohol, but not really — there’s no choice involved in biology).
The fact is that the emotional armageddon in my last post was caused by uh, a severe mood swings due to PMS. Yes what fun. Some months I eat, some months I get irritable, this month I had a nervous breakdown. Sheesh.
What I talked about was true — I’m afraid of getting emotional about Terminator, and I told a lie to protect myself which he may or may not know about — but truly, I’m not dying about it, and I will survive.
Thanks to my estrogen-fueled hysteria yesterday, I spent all day writing, re-writing, analyzing every minute of our time together. I was obsessing and at one point, yes, crying about this turn of events. I never do shit like that. Women who do that annoy the hell out of me.
My answer to over-wrought women trying to decode texts, status updates, comments and laconic phone conversations is, “who cares what he says, what did he do? How does he treat you?”
I have my answer, but I wish it were a different one. Not great, but not the end of the world.
Image: original artist unknown. I do not own the copyright to the image and no infringement is intended.