Needless to say, this summer has been a sure shit show for my dating life; the fall hasn't been much better.
After Creep cheated on me, I dated a cop briefly (I know, I know, big mistake). When I say briefly, I mean he ghosted me after two dates. Then, on Halloween, I met this fantastic guy who also ghosted me after we had one date and literally 5 minutes before the second date. WTF! (Ironically, he's still creeping me on Snapchat).
But the BIGGEST WTF came when I found out that my Ex the federal agent was now engaged to his cow of a 25-year-old girlfriend. Yes. They even have a wedding website set up.
FML.
And you know, it's not even that I want the asshole back. It's that I'm pissed off that someone like him is getting the happy ending, and here I am, floundering to even get a freaking relationship off the ground.
Wouldn't that piss you off? Wouldn't it?
Of course, I reported my findings about the engagement to my most trusted friends and family. I got the usual, "A leopard never changes his spots - it'll fail, just wait and see" and "You're fabulous, f*** that guy" and of course the usual and ever-so-popular "The right one will come along."
As much as I appreciate the words of comfort, it's all meaningless until it actually happens for me. You can tell me all day that I'll get the happy ending, but until it actually comes, they're just words.
Look at me, I'm 33 years old, and single, with no man even on my radar.
I know I'm beautiful. I know I have an amazing career. I'm making almost double than what I did at my old job. I know I have a great circle of friends and family. I know I have an amazing, fulfilling life.
Having an amazing, fulfilling life is part of the problem, though. I want to share it. Every year that goes by makes me want to share it even more.
I want to come home to a partner who is my equal. I want to give birth. I want my legacy to live on genetically. I want people to see my face in my children and remember me. I want to pass on my traditions and values through my children. I want to share my life.
2017 is coming to a close, and it's drop-kicking me in the ass on its way out.
FML. FML. FML.
