The Bitter Girls’ Diary

Or I hope…

It’s been a couple of weeks (err a month?) and I decided to come back to blogging. It’s my ploy to be good at life. I’m not good at life. My friends will tell you this. Not that I’m horrible but I have this utter obsession with being trademark good at life and while I appreciate people telling me no one can be that; I disagree.

So the past few weeks I have been solid about going on one date here and there, nothing beyond that. A few more crazyblinddates. I admit that blind dates don’t freak me out. It’s because I have nothing to lose. I’m much more nervous and anxious about going on dates where I am interested in the person.

So I’m writing again because I started this blog with Betty to get better. I’ll be frank here because if I am ever going to date and like me I should be okay sharing things. That says for the 14 or so (maybe more) people that read this blog. I have neurofibromatosis. Right now the case is pretty mild but it’s really destroyed my self-esteem. No self-esteem makes me pretty worthless at dating. I can’t ever imagine anyone ever wanting to be with me.

My bitterness comes I guess more at myself that at the male population but who ever said I was good at life? I’m working on that.

Hey bitter friends,

It’s been some time. I apologize at my lacking of blogging/ my bitter-spewing. There is no excuse, no fancy dinner dates, no Mr. Man tapping at my door — just lazy, self-induced convent talk.

As I mentioned before, I joined Match. I’ve changed my profile (four times now), put recent pictures and nothing. I get it. I’m not date-worthy. I get it. I’m odd. Sigh. I’m just done. I’m done with the e-mails, the winks, I’m done with the winks from the guys I’m not interested in. What is wrong with me? And if anyone points out that it’s because I’m bitter and writing this blog and maybe if I went out more and took of the bitter face I’d have better luck can suck it. I’m not always this bitter and today is a special cake.

I made a pretty big life decision earlier this summer to remove some things that had bothered me my whole life. It’s not a cure, what I have is not curable, but it should — when recovery is complete — make me feel much better. I’m covered in stitches right now and trying to find the bright light. But this is one of two surgeries and I still the bumps and the skin and not being perfect and thus the bitterness continues. I can’t imagine anyone thinking I’m anything but a friend or worth of holding.

This is getting a bit much for me, I’m signing out. I’m going to be better about posting. Much love all.