The Mechanical Breathmint.

Today I went and saw my ex-girlfriend. I know it is not a smart thing to do. People had wisely advised me against such action. Being the stupid twit I was, I decided not to talk to said wise people until after the fact. Apparently I enjoy hurting myself.

It is impossible to love me apparently.

Apparently. And again I say apparently. Such a nice little word.

For those of you just joining, let me reiterate tonights top news stories! There is no one trapped down a mine, no one give a damn about teachers wages or about the death toll on the roads, no, prepare yourself for tonight's channel [insert number of your choice here] special three hour broadcast about people you don't care about whining about something quite devoid from your life but that you watch because you like to pretend you are up to date, interested in the wellbeing of others or there is nothing better to watch until The Simpsons throw up another repeat that you are all too familiar with but you will watch because it reminds you how fantastically predictable life is. The Simpsons has all the answers.

So yes, once again, I have become the dumped in life's next new reality tv show: Relationships.

Relationships. If you are new to playing this game, please let me impart an old soul's advice: do not look for the instruction manual. There is not one. The only thing you can possibly do is understand yourself and, if the partner in question didn't appreciate the things you cherished about yourself, then be glad you are out of said relationship. If this sounds a little after-school-special for you, let me use the voice of Bill Crosby to tell you how it is:

"Minuufuu bughingginburg! Bragabfinhugandirgabfer? Hiklimbergerfortthatternbugh! Othhothma!"

And now everything is alright again.

But seriously. I'm getting a little sick of this.

This will be the second Christmas in a row where I have been recently dumped. Deck the halls and traa-laa-laa as much as you like but its not getting any easier with experience. I'm not too keen on changing the person I am. I'm am fairly gad-damn-arse-shit-cock happy with myself- or at least most o myself. There are of course things that are up for negotiation. But I am starting to get a little worried. I am now 25 and quite possibly single for the next few years. And this is a worry.

Oh yes, anyone who is older and trying to impart wisdom to someone younger than you? Saying "Oh don't worry, you are still young" does not help. At all.

What am I saying? I don't know. I was deeply into this lady. Balls deep. And her not being a part of my life makes everything sound a little hollow. Yes, I know things get better with time and I know there are plenty more "fish" in the "sea" (a metaphor I have always found disturbing, by the way) but I swear if any of you presume to throw another hack-kneed cliche at me in the sincere hope it will alleviate my suffering, then prepare to have your feelings worn like a second hand condom because I will be taking an eye for an eye in completely biblical fashion.

I do not direct this comment against the friends who have been truly wonderful to me in the past couple of weeks. I know that everyone is getting just a little bit sick of this; hell, I am getting sick of this. It's disappointing to know that we all have to continue growing up. There is no such thing as a grown-up: we all keep learning.

Damn.

That which happens now I honestly have no idea. Watch this space. No doubt with more time on my hands (hah!) I shall be blogging more.

Hooray.

In other news: I have obtained a part time job! It is the most boring piece of crap I have ever come across! YES.