Once upon a time there was a girl who fell in love with a boy and though she thought this boy loved her, he probably honestly didn’t. And so on November 4th of 2001 they had a conversation that went like this:
Girl: So what, you want to break up then?
Boy: I don’t know, maybe
Girl: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN MAYBE
Obviously the girl 1) said it as a sort of joke and 2) didn’t like the outcome. So the boy decided at that moment that maybe they should break up though he wasn’t man enough to say it straight out (hence why we’re referring him to “boy”).
Then the boy threw in that they were too far apart (though they had been dating for almost six months at this point) and proceeded to date two girls after her WHO WERE FROM HER HOMETOWN.
Anyway, November 4th was a pretty rough day for this girl for the next few years. Sad and pathetic, I know.
This is a work of fiction. Actually, it’s not. But we can pretend it is. It is my blog after all.
The beginning of November hates me. It’s probably always hated me. Actually it doesn’t hate me but I always tend to have the worst luck with it. Relationship-wise. And sure you can say, “but you’re married now! All of that over!” and yeah, sure, I guess so.
But here’s a little secret. Every two years during the first week of November M and I break up. I don’t know what it is, or why it happens but it happened in 2006 and it happened in 2008 (which spanned an entire month, yes we were broken up for an entire month once. How’s that for perfect for each other?). I was sort of expecting it in 2010, but it didn’t happen and technically it would happen again, around this time but today we’re okay with each other lol. Then again he wife’d me in 2009 and I wonder if it was because he was tired of the tradition of breaking up.
Either way, I just wanted to write a little meaningless entry on crappy stuff. Because that’s what winter does to me — reminds me of crappy stuff. Sometimes lol.