I really am becoming overly impressed with myself as days go by. I really, really believe I have my shit together when it comes to the finer points in dating. In fact, I am only falling more in love with myself at this point than anybody else. How kiff is that? Narcissism must be a by-product of self-control.
I feel I now have a healthy cynicism about opening oneself up to someone else.
This isn’t something you can buy at the OK Bazaars.
Experience enough fuck-ups, and I suppose one eventually learns.
Having fun and dating someone with [hopefully] minimal heartache is actually easy.
1) Never let your guard down.
2) Never change your mindset. I am still single, yet dating one person. He has no allegiance to me, and I have none to him. Unless this changes into something steadfast over time, I am completely my own person.
3) Don’t sleep with them. Unless you just want sex of course.
4) Avoid all ‘deep talk.’ Emotionally draining. Unless it’s because something is changing and the conversation is necessary.
5) Always take things with a pinch of salt. And take your blinkers off.
6) Have fun. When you stop having fun, change your situation.
7) Have a role model. Mine is Christina in Grey’s Anatomy. She’s super chilled, is always herself and never thinks beyond today. She’s blatantly casual about relationships, and has utmost control. A sensible little wall around her soul. This is both self-preserving and practical.
8) Never take your feet off the ground or get swept away. Exercise caution.
9) Live for the moment. I’ve learnt not to look at next week, or even tomorrow. I only look at today and whether I am happy with someone today.
10) Realise that you are in a situation where there is hurt potential. Prepare to be hurt, because it may, or very likely, happen. However, by keeping a close check on the situation, ultimately the hurt won’t be as bad as the last time.
In a nutshell: think like a guy. It takes adapting to, but once you have mastered it, you feel, like, super.
All seems well.
He’s started using words I use. Like doondies, bless and poen. ‘Pants’ is just a matter of time. He went to a wedding the other day, and on seeing the bridesmaids stuffing their faces with Nik Naks, went to tell them why they shouldn’t be doing that. “Before you take another handful: best you don’t be eating those…” Bless I guess.
On another note, my rat is an opportunist. I could kill that Chad. Well not really, he’s a real little poppet, but you know. I fill up his bowl to the top, apply fresh water. I even threw in a fresh carrot. During the course of the weekend, while I was in another province, his packet of food must’ve fallen onto the side of the cage. He obviously attached himself with all fours onto the bars and ate through right into the bag.
He ate three times more seed than his [puny] bodyweight. The bag included. He is currently digesting a fair amount of plastic.
Got back and noticed he was more than slightly rotund. Or rather he had doubled in size, and was looking like a right little porker. A grotesquely fat rodent.
The little pie-eater had munched away at like half a kg of seed. He seems to be ok, even though he is finding it hard to drag his godawfully large stomach across the cage. I’ve put him on fast-cum-starvation diet until tonight.
I can just see it: [Cool and calculating] “I’ll get that bitch for neglecting me. I’m Chad the Mighty Vermin! [munch munch munch]. She abandoned me for an entire weekend for another bloke! I’m…going…to…eat…all…the…seed…from…this bag. That’ll teach her.”
Or maybe I’m imagining things again and he just saw food, made an executed decision based on pure intuition encouraged by the vision of delicious seedy sustenance, and ate himself retarded.
No analysing, just doing.
If I had any doubt about Chad’s gender, the writing is definitely on the wall now.