BluE Scrubs

Some people lie to themselves. They just don't like facing to the fact that the very person they like is just not into them. Who likes not being liked. It hurts. I agree, but could we actually try and understand why some people are not attracted to some others. Even better could we actually globally accept a reason for not being with somebody as simply as I am just not into you. Without being stoned to death or being called a bitch.

When I got on to my phone messages after the urology list , one made me felt cut. Mr Black actually agreed that I promised to speak to him at 8 tonight. But me, I remembered but my sense were blunted. I liked the idea but I don't thrive on the actual act of being on the phone finding out more about another man. I don't have that curteousy to be by the phone dressed in a eager beaver suit. And I am actually worried.

Does it take more than diamonds to woo? Is it the moon his competition? Are flowers an insult because they represent the desire to fertilize a woman. I mean why are flowers so beautiful but last only enough time for the bees to use and abuse?

This is not the first time. Mr Black punch line was Hi, it's me again and yes I like it better if I could actually speak to you. However, if this is a warning of a more interaction with your answerphone than yourself, then you don't secure me any confidence. I am pissed off. Ouch! I think he meant what he said, and I think I am not quite in the wrong. I say that because all that pallaver was only after one dinner and a river cruise.

But then, it's happened before and it's to the best man with an arm length tick boxes. Now this is worrying. I think I have passed that I wanna phase. I am entering I don't wanna phase. Maybe I have my radar turned 180 degrees. Because the other day i found perky boobs are a turned on.

But there is hope. On maternity 2 days ago, my bleep went off. The hospital reception was in need of me. For what I thought. I had a delivery. From interflora. A grand orchestra of sunflowers, yellow roses, lucky bamboos, fronds of greens fringed the bouquet. It was gorgeous and I wanted it to be from him. He who put together my IKEA aneboda flat pack bed. He who loves babies so much he took up a career stabbing needles in their feet and put the blood in a little straw. Weirdo breed of doctors, I know.


Later that day i texted him, They are gorgeous thank you.

Very soon he replied, What flowers?

It was a shot in the dark. All the way from LA.