That One Tiny Regret ...

What's that saying?  Don't regret your decisions because at one point it was exactly what you wanted and now you are a better person for it and blah, blah, blah *rolling eyes into an oblivion* ...

Maybe this is true.  Maybe they are just words that help us get through the regret of the mistake we just dove into head first - sort of like a false sense of hope.  Maybe we were just under the influence of alcohol and really?  Who. The fuck. Thinks clearly then. 

My point is that I've definitely made mistakes ... haven't we all?  I usually am not one to regret my mistakes, because I make a lot and generally I just tend to not give a fuck, but sometimes, SOME-TIMES, I get weak and there's that one tiiiiiiiny regret that slips its way through the cracks of my subconscious and comes back to haunt me.  Here is my story ...

 

The Temptation: He sets his eyes on you and makes the first move.  You know he's all wrong for you.  He's the dark, mysterious, player type.  It's written all over his face.  He's the man your mother warned you about, but my God how much fun that man is.  With those shifty eyes that are always looking for a better deal, if he doesn't already have one waiting ... but you are an enchantress (maybe that's the alcohol working) and at this point your brain has made you believe that your clamburger possesses the magical sorcery needed to convert this (otherwise unexplainably appealing) asshole into a one woman kind of man. 

 

But like the little devious vagina whisperer that he is, he says all the right things - lies, to be exact, but they are such beautiful lies.  He knows how to make you feel like you are the only woman in the world and no matter how hard to try to fight it, before you even know it ... your favorite panties are somewhere across the room never to be found again.

Will all the ladies personally victimized by this type of seducer please raise your hands!!!

United we stand, ladies ...


The Waiting Game:  We are all adults, so let's just own up to the deed that was done.  This guy was trouble from the moment you saw him and you fought temptation like a warrior but you caved like a weakling.  Half of you believes that he will actually keep wanting to see you and the other half knows that the fun ends after all is said and done ... and so, like an optimistic, naïve, little girl you wait ever-so-patiently by that phone ...

but girl! #letsbehonest, he ain't calling.

It's ok.

It's not ok.

Was it me?  My clamburger?

It is what it is.

Such is life.

Que sera, sera ... 

Should I keep going?  At least you can look back and say you got a fun lay out of it ... AmIRiiiiiiiiiiight!? No.  No, you are not right - this sucks ass.  Regret consumes every fiber of your being.

... and so 2 months have now gone by and just as you and your little clamburger have regained 95% of their self-confidence back and have moved on from the situation, the Devil rears his ugly face with a fucking phone call!!!

Enter: mini-heart attack ... because let's keep it real, at first you're all:

because vaginas and emotions, that's why.

but then he begins speaking and it makes your brain hurt and then you're all:

 

because that game gets lame and boring and now he just needs to shut the fuck up and roll off a cliff *sighs* had you only been smarter ... So just be strong and hang up that phone (ignore the voice of regret) with your dignity still intact because for every asshole we encounter I like to believe that there is a good man out there, right around the corner, waiting to cross our path ... unless, like a typical female we friend zone him and fuck that up, too.

So until then, when regret starts creeping in, remember:

Chin up, Princess!