Seriously though . . . there’s no way I can be a magnet for these dudes who don’t have it together. There’s no way. OK, not everyone knows how to drive. Not everyone has a “career” per say. Not everyone has good credit, can pay bills on time or budget well. But there’s no way I keep getting these counterfeit guys who are technically (and I don’t want to offend anyone because the internet tends to get offended for every striking thing nowadays but it is what it is) not available. They’re not eye to eye with me on finances, emotions or spirituality. And why do I not see this fact until it’s too late? Until my time and years have gotten away from me? Until I’m years older and more wiser? Until my energy is depleted and dried up like a shriveled prune? Why?
Then I wonder if it’s me. Do I have an innate need within me to mother that attracts these chronic breastfeeders? Is it the strong girl gene in my lineage that makes me appealing? Is it my so laid back, so low maintenance that I’m no maintenance vibe the culprit? Well whatever it is I have to break the cycle. I have to take a mallet and mash up the monster I’ve unknowingly created, toss it in the furnace and make ash out of it cause I’m not having it anymore. I’m so done you have no idea.
I’m not helping anyone study for anymore tests for college or reviewing any more research papers and making corrections. I’m not helping anyone learn how to budget his money, pay bills or get out of debt. I’m not going to church with anyone who wants to answer a phone call during church service (don’t ask) or leave an award ceremony to answer a non-emergent phone call. I’m not putting up with anyone’s need to look prettier and more well groomed than than me. I’m not showing up for any of that crap anymore.
If you don’t come correct to me, you know . . . a healthy, exceptionally well put together, got it going on gift, neatly packaged with large bow on top, it’s a wrap. Over. Done. Finito. I’m out. Drop the mike.
