date night

Last Friday was Tater and Muddy's engagement celebration, and though he wasn't invited, it was held at the Cheers-like bar/restaurant of my ex. He didn't show (amazing! he used to be there every Friday night like clockwork) but I was relieved. Until I got to talking with a few of his friends; now I have doubts about the veracity of his reasons for breaking up.

And all of this made me think of him throughout the weekend, which I haven't done since thirty minutes after he broke up with me back in June. And then I started wondering... is there something wrong with me? I know, relationship fail.

But no, there's nothing wrong with me (nothing major, anyways!) And if you don't like what I am, then get lost! And whether or not what he told me is true doesn't matter (because if it's true, he's the idiot we all know he is and if it's false, then he's a liar... don't need those in my life.)

And it got me thinking about some awkward patterns in my colorful dating history. "When is the last time someone bought me flowers?" I thought as I was grocery shopping. "When is the last time a date showed up with flowers at the door?"

February 2011. Doesn't sound like such a long time but that is six males and five first dates ago.

So I decided to take myself on a date and bought myself flowers. And a baby deer table knick-knack at $5 to make myself really smile. I cooked beefy pasta with lots of garlic, opened a bottle of pinot grigio (because matching your wine to your pasta is really not necessary,) and spread some fashion inspiration on the table. Oh yeah, get out the romantic tealight candle because tonight is the season premiere of Season 2 of Revenge and I love that shamelessly juicy saga of a girl taking matters into her own hands. Go on Emily, get 'em!

Flowers... is that so much to ask? I should've known that he-who-blows-up-my-toilet doesn't deserve me.