Update from Lucy

I try not to break up the theme here with crap about my real life but this part is germane.  This Friday, I will be heading to Venice (the real one! in Italy!) for four days.

That's going to be me in one of those tiny boats! 

But, since I don't have a laptop, I will not be posting on my usual schedule of Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.  This is the part that concerns you.  (Feel free to enjoy the archives!)

Please don't abandon reading just because I'm going on vacation for a week!  I've just gotten to the point where I've started to believe that people are coming here on purpose instead of being misdirected by Google.  You don't want to crush my fragile self-esteem do you?

I don't to be worrying about my stat counter while I should be practicing how to say "Do you want to come to my hotel room?" in Italian.  Oh, make no mistake, people.  I am going to do everything I can to get laid on this trip.  It already has an added degree of difficulty since I'll be hanging out with my mom (she needed someone to shop with), so I don't need distractions on top of that.  It's been a long, cold winter since the week before Christmas if you know what I'm saying.

I'm going to take this minute and segue sharply into my personal life.  Feel free to stop here if you'd like.

I have never said "we should still be friends" to a man and I think I was totally right in feeling insulted that one would have the temerity to try and end a relationship by saying it to me.  It's a cop-out, pure and simple.  It means "I don't want to have anything to do with you but I don't want you to cry so I'll hold out some false hope".  Fuck that.  Going from an intimate arrangement to a platonic one can be considered nothing but an Also-Ran and I'm better than that.  So when my paramour texts me that he's moving to Arlington and he hopes we'll still remain friends, I feel well within my rights to reply

We were never friends.  Don't contact me again.  Have a great life.

The end, right?  Yeah, as far as he knows.

But as a very observant woman once said, I can't seem to drink, dance, smoke, or fuck enough to get him off my mind.  So I'm going on vacation.  Maybe new scenery of the hot Italian variety can shake this melancholy.  I hope so.  I deleted him from my phone but I don't know that I could be made from stone if he were to call expressing remorse.  Better to be 4000 miles away than to be weak.