Not that I don’t enjoy being single I do. I like the freedom that I have and the fact that I can up and go when I want to go. I don’t have to let someone know where I am going or when I will be home. I can cook what I want to eat for dinner and I don’t have to ask, “You ok with salmon?” I can pick the spot I want to go on vacation without a second thought about what someone else may think about a week in the woods or a trip to visit friends Texas. It is all up to me.
But some times I want to ask someone WHAT IN THE HELL IS WORNG WITH ME? I am not crazy. Ok I am a little crazy but nowhere near white dinner coat crazy. I am funny as hell and love to cook, eat and travel. I readily admit I am woefully bad about changing the oil in my car and when I feel like someone is not listening to me, really hearing me out I become a raving bitch.
But seriously what the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I get a date? I stopped tying them up. They wanted to press charges. For some reason the police tell me I can’t hold them against their will.
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