Pre-Valentine's angst

So when everyone else, is, on this bright Sunday morning, singing hymns and praising the Almighty in church, I am sitting listening to Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye. Let's Get It On, Tamale? Yes. Let's Get It On. It's getting worse - this feeling.

I realised last night, as I lay down with cramps and nausea and a hot water bottle, that this dude I am allegedly seeing - or whatever it is we are doing - is a fucking waste of time. I mean, yes...you are away on business and I understand you're busy, but shit...would it kill you to send me a text asking if I am okay, or an email? WTF! I needed a belly rub and though he was not there physically, he was not there any other way either.

And there is a great line in the book, "He's Just Not That Into You" that goes -

I don't want to be "sort of dating" someone. I don't
want to be "kinda hanging out" with someone. I don't want to spend a lot of
energy suppressing my feelings so I appear uninvolved. I want to be involved. I
want to be sleeping with someone I know I'll see again because they've already
demonstrated to me that they're trustworthy and honorable -- and into me.

So I started penning my Dear John letter in my mind last night. I mean, Edward gave up the kingdom for Wallis. You cannot give up 10 minutes??? Is romance really and truly dead? Not even romance but basic "into you"? Wow. I have just been "not into you'ed". How dramatic! I have been "not into you'ed" peeps. Well, two can play this game.

Dear Jackass

You clearly cannot give me what I need at this time. I am probably one of
the easiest girlfriends a guy could ever have. I am all about space and time
alone etc. I like my privacy and can appreciate a man who has a life outside of
nagging me every 5 minutes. But shit, I am also a woman and
sometimes...oh...just sometimes, I need a bit of attention. A bit of love and
care. Some concern. Some empathy on the rough days. A little support here and there.

I don't ask for much besides the knowledge that somewhere out there, there is some smitten fucker, missing me. Do you miss me? I highly doubt it cause you cannot even bring yourself to
call or email. How long has it been now? Where is the acknowledgement of my existence?
So this is my Dear John letter to you. What is worse is that you
are not even high up on the Tam-dar - not a Tamale type but again, silly beak
that I am, I decided to try something new. Give the below average dude a shot. Support a charity!
But guess what - cute or not stellar like yourself, you're all assholes! So I might as well look good in
public while getting my heart stomped upon, don't you think? And get some good sex too.

Keeping it real, friend.....Tamale