Option eliminated

I think I've found my balls.

Not literally thank god, but metaphorically.

I'm not entirely sure if blogging about this right now is entirely sensible, considering this little incident only occurred about an hour ago and I'm still absolutely FUMING, but blog about it I will, because I can, so there.

I am sick and tired of men thinking they can pick me up and put me down whenever they see fit, playing with my mind in the process, making me smile for a couple of days, before whipping the carpet out from underneath my feet and deciding that there's something better over their shoulder, plunging me back into boredom and slight unhappiness. In this case, that something better would be a statuesque Russian to get engaged to.

I am not a statuesque Russian, in case you hadn't noticed.

I will never be a statuesque Russian, and quite frankly at this moment in time, I never want to set eyes on another statuesque Russian as long as I live.

I am done.

I am not falling for it again, I'm worth more than an option, in fact dammit, I could give the statuesque Russian a serious run for her money, but quite frankly I can't be arsed, because what's the point?

I shouldn't have to compete, so I'm not going to. I've cut myself from the equation, you can't have both. Or even six or seven, because there's probably more too.

What a lucky, lucky girl, eh? Such a trustworthy dude she's found to spend the rest of her life with. I'm more interested in finding someone with whom I'm the ONLY one, and not one of many, even if that does mean being on my own for a bit longer, or possibly even forever the way things are going.

Is it ever going to happen for me?! Just once?!