Farewell, 2016.

It has been just short of a year since my last post. Don’t worry – I’ve been busy ranting and raving in other dark corners of the internet. Admittedly not nearly as often or with as much fervent energy as I think I could – and should – commit to.

The good news is that Mr. B is a distant memory. I harbour no ill will; no resentment. The thought of his irritatingly perfect teeth and receding hairline (hah!) no longer make me feel violent. I haven’t stalked his social media in a year – the true tell-tale sign that you are over your ex.

The bad news is that after Mr. B came Mr. A, and in many ways that I’m just starting to realize a few months out, he ended up being a bigger douche than Mr. B. How? Well, Mr. B summoned up the courage to end things with me in person. We will give him half a point for initiating the conversation in person (and then deduct 9038259034859034 points for everything else).

Mr. A played the nice guy. He dragged me through the pretense of a relationship and wasn’t brave enough to end it, despite not being able to give me what I wanted.

He forced me to pull the trigger and end it. And it may not have prompted me to start a blog devoted to villanizing him to 500 of my closest new friends, but him giving up on our relationship was a far bigger mind fuck. I spent the next few weeks scratching my head, and then decided to “rally” and win him back.

Drunk texts were sent (many times). Epic love letters crafted and mailed. My words and delivery may not always have been eloquent, but goddamn, did I ever fight for that man. Every fibre of my being stubbornly dug my heels into the ground; not accepting the fact that he could possibly not reciprocate my level of devotion (synonym: delusion).

Spoiler: He didn’t come back.

So here I am, two years later, in some ways exactly where I’ve always been. A few more battle scars to display. A little less patient. A lot more suspicious.

But despite all this, I am looking forward to 2017 with cautious optimism. Besides the constant stream of lackluster prospects I’ve dated since Mr.B, I’ve built a good life. Friends. Family. Work. Yoga. Dog. I have a lot of (loving) cushion to fall back on every time a new prospect with dimples and a dazzling smile inevitably disappoints me in some new creative manner.

I’ll leave you with the same quote I left you with at this same time last year. I’m thinking of getting it tattooed on me. Kidding. (But only sort of):

Bitch, be cool. Do you. This is life. Keep figuring it out.