My stat graph is shrinking.

As if I need a reminder. 

When I first started this blog my graph showed at least a full week and counted up to 10 views.  In recent weeks it’d shrunk down to show 5 views, and just this morning I log on to see it only shows four days and up to 2 views.  Because no one reads this thing.  Ok, that’s partly my fault because I refuse to mention it to any of the people I know except one.  Whatever.

Anyway, that one friend used to look at it every morning regardless of update but she’s all busy being happy with a new beau now so I guess it fell to the wayside.  And that may not be the reason but it’s what my head tells me so I roll with it.  Can you tell I’m slightly bitter?  Just a touch. 

Not bitter.  Ok, maybe so.  It’s hard.  Like, it’s extremely fucking difficult for me and I don’t know that I can explain it well enough for anyone to understand.  **Side note:  My blueberry tea tastes like medicine this morning so boo for that too.**

So yeah, it’s been a difficult week for me.  Not only am I back as the ‘single girl’ of the group once again, but I also got written up at work Friday.  Seriously.  I wanted to respond with a giant ‘F YOU!’ and go out with guns blazing but the economy is shit so I just sat there and stared.  That’s always fun.

But my best friend, my only other single girl companion is paired off once again.  And then there was one. 

It’s killing me.  It really is.  She was my buffer.  The friend I could hang out with and just be two girls having a good time.  She made me feel like I wasn’t quite so single somehow.  We could share those occasional disappointments with each other and I just always knew there was someone there who knew what I was going through to some extent.  Not so much anymore.  Now we can’t spend 15 minutes together without the new guy being mentioned somehow.

Let me say, I don’t want to be this girl.  I don’t want to be bitter that I’m single.  I don’t want to be bitter that I’ve lost my buffer.  I want to be the friend that can sit and listen to her go on and on about how fantastic this guy is and how awesome he is in bed and how happy she is.  I want to be able to sit there and smile just as big as she does because I’m so happy my friend has this.  She deserves it, and I really mean that. 

But I’m not being that friend right now.  I don’t know if I ever can be while I’m in the situation I’m in because damnit, I deserve it too.  It makes me even sadder to be like this but I can’t sit and listen to how great he is without wondering where the great guy is for me.  I can’t listen to stories of things he does and says without thinking about how I felt when Playboy was “here” and did/said similar things, or wonder why I can’t find someone to say those things to me.  I can’t see her elated, brilliant smile without wishing I could have one of my own.

This week she began introducing him to the friends.  A group date.  Three couples.  And I wasn’t a part of that.  Because I’m not a couple. 

Last night was girls night and I probably said 5 words all night.  First they all traded boyfriend stories.  Well, I have none of those.  Then they traded sex stories.  None of those either.  And then it was on to kid stories.  You see the trend…none of those either.  It was painful for me.  Painful.  And to torture myself even more I spent my quiet time thinking about how my phone wasn’t ringing because Playboy wasn’t there anymore.

I sat in a room with my best friend last night when most of the girls had gone and there was tension.  Because she deserves me to be that friend who can genuinely smile and be interested in her new beau stories, and because I deserve that friend who understands that it hurts me and makes the choice not to talk about it.

This morning I woke up and while getting ready for work tears were streaming down my cheeks and I was screaming at nothing, at God, and at everything simultaneously because I don’t know what the hell else to do.  

It’s been 14 years and 2 months since I’ve been in a relationship.  14 years. And. 2 months.  One hundred and seventy months.  736 weeks.  My single life is in junior high.  They say God doesn’t give us more than we can handle but I’m starting to think maybe he has me mixed up with someone else.  I’m trying to make light of it, but it’s not light.  Not even a little bit.

I don’t have anyone.  There is no one on this planet who puts me first, and that includes me.  If I weren’t here anymore, I can’t think of one single person whose life would be dramatically affected by that. 

It all sucks.  I deserve to have someone to share my life with.  I deserve to fall asleep at night beside a man who loves me.  I deserve a shoulder to cry on when I need it.  I deserve to have someone to turn to when something breaks and have them take care of it for me on occasion.  Someone to laugh and play with, to kiss and make love to.  Someone to travel with, someone to go on group dates with.  I deserve a name instead of a + one.  Someone to buy gifts for during the holidays and on birthdays.

Maybe I don’t deserve it.  Maybe I just want it.  But everyone deserves to be loved, don’t they?  Why can’t I find mine?

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