Well, it would seem that the writing on the wall has become spray painted, and written in great big feckin' block letters. C.G. is gone. For good. To Texas. I got the news yesterday and spent about 16 hours in terrible shock. I cried my cry, ate a shit ton of cookies and cream ice cream, cheese/crackers, took a couple of Aleve for the raging headache I got as a result of crying, and fell asleep around 5 a.m. this morning, with the t.v. still on.
I woke up really late and opened my eyes to see Martha Stewart playing with kittens and puppies. And, despite my crying/ice cream hangover, I felt o.k. I half expected to see butterflies and unicorns with the kittens. I'm still less-than-thrilled about the defection of this man, but I think I'll survive.
And you know what else? One day soon, I might end up grateful that I didn't get C.G. I've been thinking about my other crushes and what would've happened had I ended up with them.
Dominic: I'd have been saddled with a cocaine-addicted nutjob, in one of the seedier areas of Minneapolis.
Bryan: I'd have given birth to 5 kids in 5 years and be stuck on a farm in the middle of nowhere in northwestern Minnesota. What the hell would I have done with myself on a farm? I'd have gone after the man with a pitchfork after the first month.
Dave: I'd have ended up in the boondocks of Michigan.
Scott: Cheater; slapped his girlfriends around.
Eric: Really nice guy but gay.
Philip: Whale-shit boring.
As much as this hurts right now, even I have enough wherewithal to know that this little Texas Tragedy is probably a HUGE blessing in disguise. It might take a little more ice cream and a few moody afternoons at Starbucks, writing moody letters to my favorite cousin, but I'm sure I'll survive.
So, goodbye C.G. Good luck, God bless, use SPF, and watch out for rattlesnakes...
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