Sometimes I Think Having A Boyfriend Is Stupid

Which it is. There are days I wish I didn't have to hate other women (I will cut a bitch!), and have to shave, and get seriously coke-head IRRITABLE when I don't talk to him all day. It would be nice to be unattached and invincible again. And therefore we, overall, think boyfriends are a stupid thing to have.

But it's YOUR boyfriend. It's YOUR pain in the ass. Who else would go fetch your car from a friend's house for you, because you kinked your neck and can't drive, and return it with a full tank of gas? Who else explains to you that you make him happy, but is more of a pilot than a wordsmith, so expands on his statement by putting his hand in the air in front of his face and very solemly, slowly creating an imaginary air-chart illustrating (literally) your effect on him, "because you make my mood do this":

And that makes perfect sense to him. And to me, actually. Sometimes I want to bust out of the yoke of commitment, this soon after a divorce, because it's so much more independent sounding, so much more Aniston, to be single for awhile. I picture myself, one leg tucked under my butt, on Oprah's couch, toasting with her because I'm so independent and fabulous. And the daydream is interruped as I drive up to his house to meet and run errands together and maybe pick up some Jimmy John's, and he's doing yard work in wakeboard shorts and a Castro hat. I mean, whatever. What the hell am I supposed to do?

It doesn't help when his trucker friends recall the first time they heard about you. Which was last July, (when Reboyfriend was just Ex-boyfriend, and I was very much married and hadn't spoken to Exboyfriend in years). And they were asking him why he wasn't married, and his answer was that he had a chance once, years ago, but he blew it, so the girl got away, and married someone else, but that he still loved her. And the "her" was you, and then 10 months later, they told you the whole thing. 

So I'm serious. What the hell are you supposed to do?

I guess just some errands or something. Oprah can wait.

This was my experiment in a not-long post. So that people don't exit site before the end. How did I do? I realize that on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being seriously so blessed, I'm coming in at about 17. But still. Just be glad it's under 11,000 words. K Bye.