by Brittany Geragotelis
Once a week, my guest blogger (who shall remain nameless...okay, not nameless...let's call her Ms. Sassy Pants. Sassy for short) stops by to share all the things in her life that deserve a big, fat DELETE. Anyhoo, her majesty is back and this week, she's dealing with a break-up. Check out what she had to say and then come up with a few DELETES of your own.
Happy Birthday to me...Happy Birthday to me...Haaaapppyyyyyy Birrrrrttthhhhday Ms. blah blah blah. Birthdays...one word DELETE. As far as I'm concerned, once you're past the age of 21, they really don't mean much. And once you're over the age of thirty, we just celebrate the 1st, 2nd or 3rd anniversary of our 30th birthday...or at least that's what I do.
Once a week, my guest blogger (who shall remain nameless...okay, not nameless...let's call her Ms. Sassy Pants. Sassy for short) stops by to share all the things in her life that deserve a big, fat DELETE. Anyhoo, her majesty is back and this week, she's dealing with a break-up. Check out what she had to say and then come up with a few DELETES of your own.
Happy Birthday to me...Happy Birthday to me...Haaaapppyyyyyy Birrrrrttthhhhday Ms. blah blah blah. Birthdays...one word DELETE. As far as I'm concerned, once you're past the age of 21, they really don't mean much. And once you're over the age of thirty, we just celebrate the 1st, 2nd or 3rd anniversary of our 30th birthday...or at least that's what I do.
Of course there are presents and those are worth mentioning. However, after this birthday, the plan is to stock up on cats and settle in with some moth balls and knitting needles, because it's official...I'm another year older, and newly single in NYC, which in my book, is a death sentence.
So yes, I said it kiddies: I'm single. The super hot boyfriend is no more and as a birthday present to myself, I kicked him to the curb. Why you ask? Well let's just take a look at the list of reasons why he had to be DELETED.
Going radio silent for days on end. DELETE.
Dating—or should I say, warehousing—other women, just to keep his options open. I'm an only child, buddy, and don't like to share. DELETE.
Calling—oh I'm sorry, texting—the night of our scheduled birthday dinner celebration and canceling because he supposedly broke his nose playing basketball. Can't take me out, but still managed to finish your game? DELETE.
Lying about said injury (because you know he was). Or lying period. DELETE.
He's over 30 and still lives at home. DELETE.
He's over 30 and can't quite hold down a job and is currently unemployed. DELETE.
His primary choice of communication is text and he seems to have an aversion to picking up the phone and talking to a real person. DELETE.
He never kept his promises or even followed through with the simplest of plans. DELETE.
He stood me up on more than one occasion. I just attributed it to him being a bit flaky. I might have been blinded by his supreme hotness and height—now I realize he's just a double-sized douche. DELETE.
So note to self...hotness does not equal greatness. Most likely, after this go around, I'll be taking a sabbatical from dating. However, when I hit the scene again, I'm sure I'll have plenty of new material for you.
5x5,
B.
5x5,
B.
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