When I finally decide to do something, I go all the way and I’m basically unstoppable. As I was turning one page, I figured I might as well start a whole new book and skip a couple of chapters. Plus I had some wine to drink, and that makes me really stupid courageous. So I tipsy-texted the astronaut the ‘our arrangement isn’t working for me anymore’ – message that I had been postponing since December. Within half a minute he replied an ‘ok’ that left no room for interpretation and sobered me up instantly. ‘Ok’  is pretty much the same answer you’d get if you let your clients know you were shutting your business down… if your business was a whore house girlfriends know you’ll be a little late for brunch.

I obviously knew I wasn’t in for a round of begging-‘please! Noooo!!! I won’t be able to survive without you!’. I’m not brainless, plus, the consequences of my words were severely debated before sending them over a 3G network. But I wasn’t prepared for a blatant agreement either….Ouch, my ego.

Anyhow, I concluded that I did the right thing, and started the week with a clean slate. Or at least, that was what I set out to acquire, but I’m a woman. Our minds just don’t work like that…

C: Hey! How was your weekend?

Me: I ended things with the astronaut.

C: you ended it?

T: wait… were you dating someone!?

Me: well… no… not exactly… (whispering) it was more a physical kinda thing…. So…

T: Oh I see. Then why did you end it?

Me: what?

T: if it was just physical, why did you end it… sounds like fun…

Me:……………….(baffled) Fack!… I don’t remember! WHAT HAVE I DONE!?!?

So yeah – ‘Hurray me!’ for creating a giant pink elephant in my head: I couldn’t stop thinking about the guy, and my mind was not at all pleased with that. So for 2 days straight now, I’ve been listening to the ongoing battle in my head where my mind is trying to shove him out of my brain, yelling “I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER YOU EVER SAYING ANYTHING NICE TO ME!!”, while I relive him kissing me at my front door (and some other stuff. Not at my front door.) It’s like a warzone up there, people!! A warzone, or a very bad episode of Days of Our Lives.

As if all that isn’t enough to deal with, the following happened simultaneously, and I’m starting to believe I pissed  karma off or something, as I got a call from ‘private number’ again. Instead of ignoring it this time,  I had a friend pick up the phone and yell ‘HELLO!?’ a dozen times, until someone – whom we assume was NYE Sam – asked if he could talk to Debby. Which is me. She told him he must have gotten the wrong number… and I might still be in the running to get shot.

To top it all off, I received an email from a guy I dated a while back for some 3 weeks… Writing me to let me know you don’t anticipate me to care enough to reply, is passive aggressive and basically a waste of your time. Also, if you’re that psychic you should try to make money out of it, really.

And right when you think it can’t get ANY worse, Gothamist published a map with the single women/single men concentration in New York City…

… and obviously, I had to go out on a Tuesday night and dive in to some frozen margarita’s – I honestly don’t see how else to stay sane in times like these. I wonder if I can sue the City for not having a decent amount of single men in it … but I guess sending a letter to City Hall with exactly that question would be frowned upon.

And possibly have me end up in rehab… or worse, New Jersey.

I’m seriously considering to start praying…

(to be continued)