Poetry for a Monday

Continuing in the vein of my “Ode to the Sty on my Eye” poem from the weekend, I was going to regale everyone with an “Ode to the Colossal Zit on My Nose,” but found that “zit” and “nose” just did not have the same rhyming capabilities as “sty” and “eye.”

So instead, I present to you my ZitKu.

Pus-filled and tender
To have grown this fat beasty
Pores need new hobby

Anyone else starting to get the impression that my face is conspiring against me?

On a different note altogether, but perhaps somehow related as it is entirely possible that my voodoo curse has returned…

So, I am back doing what I do best… dating and I was chatting to this fella for the better part of a week. He seemed nice. As I am not wookin pa nub, I was not even turned off by the fact that the ink on his divorce was not yet dry. Like I said, he seemed nice… and I’ve been bored.

And then it started. The double entendres over msn. Harmless little questions and conversations that somehow or other always ended up in the gutter.

Gutterball says: So are you a morning or night person

Bea says: Definitely not a morning person

Gutterball says: OK, well I won’t wake you too early

And about a bazillion other references like that. Which at first was not too bad, but after about the 5th one in a 5 minute conversation, it starts to become really annoying. Especially when you have already alluded to the fact that it annoys you. But whatever, I kind if just brushed it off and ignored it and we made plans to meet on Friday.

Thursday comes and I get the old “hey, I might have to cancel if some health issues come up the ex” (apparently she a few mental issues). This one phrase alone did what none of the gutter talk did… It made me want to flee to the high hills. Why?

Because not only did this guy spend a week warning me that when “he cuddles he has wandering hands” and that he’ll “make sure his fridge is fully stocked with my favorite breakfast foods” for our date… which is like, ew… but when it came down to it, the Gutterball was giving himself an out should something better come along. How do I know that it was a bullsh*t excuse? Well, I don’t. But let me tell you, the old girl has doled out some of the same in her heyday. Enough to know when I am hearing one in return at the very least. And if it was not some excuse? Actually the alternative was even worse because if this gutterball is still so involved with the mental issues of his wife that he would have to break off a social engagement then clearly he has no business wookin pa nub.

And so back to karma/voodoo curses.

What did I do? I blew him off. Just never logged on to msn on Friday. I did what would have driven me CRAZY had it been done to me… and has been done to me… and it did drive me crazy. And yet here I was, doing it. With no remorse… and still no remorse. Because here I am, in a position to be choosy and NOT go out with a guy who speaks to me in a manner that even my past bfs have never done, without even having met me AND giving me excuses as to why possibly he would maybe have to cancel on me at the last minute. Buh-Bye.

But I wonder…

My sty and my zit, on the same weekend. Coincidence? Is the Universe punishing me for throwing Gutterball down the gutter with nary a word? Oh well. Get used to it Universe because it’s only a gentleman for this girl. And gentlemanly is as gentlemanly does, or gentlewomanly as it were…

So there.

*Update*
Just as I was posting, I got the saddest sad sack routine from Gutterball. I am not even buying it for a second. I am so going to hell. But not before I vomit.

*Update Part deux*
Gutterball is moving, into a bachelor pad... which is small, but I am not to worry, as there will be more than enough room for the two of us in his bed.

I totally just vomited in my mouth... Now where did I put that toothpaste?