OK, so one of my favorite movies was on tonight, Bridget Jones’ Diary (the first one, I wasn’t as impressed with the second one; they didn’t do justice to the book). You know that scene at the end where Bridget goes chasing Mark Darcy down the streets of London in her under ware in the snow? And how at the end when he kisses her she says “Nice men don’t kiss like that.” Well, if I can’t have Edward Cullin breaking my headboard, biting my pillow, bruising my body, and just in general kissing me until I can’t feel my toes any more, than I want a kiss like that one. Yeah, it’s desperate, but, well, considering the fact that the last time I was kissed was the last time I had sex (and if you’ve read the blog you know how long ago THAT was) than fantasizing about onscreen kisses and kissing in novels is all I’ve got.
Honestly, I’ve tried to get other guys to kiss me. I even propositioned my friend’s brother (he used to be a booty call) but he never came through. I guess I’m just getting desperate in my old age. But did you ever wake up wondering if the last time that you had sex was going to be the last time you EVER had sex before you died? I mean, what if I have a heart attach in my sleep? (And it could happen; I’m over 30 and WAAAAAAAAAYYYYY out of shape) Or what if I get hit by a truck on my way to work or something? Then I will have died knowing that the last sex I ever had was the worst sex ever had (and yes, that counts when I lost my virginity!!!!).
I mean, I know I’m fat and that turns a lot of people off. But I’m not that bad of a person. I’m nice, and pleasant. I like to help out around the house when I can (just not my own house but that is a different story all together). I’m good with kids. I’m a good cook. I’m smart and can carry on an intelligent conversation (most days). So I don’t get it. Women get over physical appearance all the time, so why not men. And the saddest part of all of that, the one person who I think may have been attracted to me (at least he told some of my friends that he is, or was at any rate) moved because the same bitch that fired me fired him too. Why? For being “too creative for the company.” And it’s too bad, because it if wasn’t for her and the pressure to sell rather than help our customers, we would have both really loved that job, and we both did pretty well at it too. And not only do I miss what might have been (because even though he wasn’t really my “type” there was something about him that I found attractive too, and just didn’t act on it because I didn’t think that he’d be interested) but more than that, I miss my friend. And I know he is depressed because he can’t find a job either so I am also very worried about him because I haven’t heard from him in a while.
I’m beyond stupid for not making my move when I should have, and for staying pissed for so long about a job loss (2 actually) that I had very little control over. I really need to stop sulking, loose some weight, and get back up on the horse, but, well, I suppose I should finish my laundry first…
