Well. Staturday. I don't want to sound repititious, but...fuck.
Well, in some ways fuck, in other ways, not-so-fuck.
The pants were black to blend into the top and actually made my caboose look smaller, so was very happy. The ex said I looked "in mint condition," which I am assuming means, "God woman you're driving me mad with lust."
And now for Days of Our Lives. For those of you who don't know, I love and have a boyfriend. I also love my ex, always will. Willing to try hypnotherapy to forget him even. The boyfriend and I broke up for 48 hours this weekend. I saw my ex for 48 hours. YOu fill in the gaps. He wants me. This is wonderful. But me and boyfriend got back together because I love him more. So ex is bummed. And I'm bummed I can't be two people at once to quench my insatiable lust for two men.
And the ex has improved and matured somewhat. He found me my coat when he thought I looked cold, he made me coffee, drove me around, watched the dvd I wanted to watch (Love Actually) and generally behaved like a right gentleman.
But I'm with my boyfriend for a reason, so life is as it was on Friday. See and lust the ex; live with and love the boyfriend.
The torment continues. During these traumatising set of affairs, I managed to get my head around being a full-time journo again. Have two epic weeks of deadlines and stories, but am handling and for once and happy with the fact that I have a heavy workload.
So work is stabilising. My love life is forever not.
But please don't call me Brooke Forrester. Ta.