Definately Not Sweet

When I met my "almost" boyfriend, I held up my 10 fingers and counted out to this dear person, that all I would ask of a man now was to be sweet, sweet, sweet,sweet,sweet,sweet,sweet, sweet, sweet to me, and sex.  Now I find that even that is too much for me to expect from the men in my life.  I made the fatal mistake of having difficulty with his having a date with his ex girlfriend whom he described as a cold, skank.   He decided to go with the skank.  And so in a moment of madness, I banished him forever from my kingdom.  As he loaded the floating igloo cooler (I bought second hand in a thrift store) and the inflatable life raft we called the love boat into the back seat of his Toyota, he vowed that "this was not over, we are not done" but  "I am taking the yacht".  Today though, when I returned from the Auburn football game to my lonely, quiet house , I discovered he also took the cheap plastic, disposable toothbrush he kept in guest bathroom.  Obviously, we are done.  I sit in my bedroom and look at all I have left of this would be romance; some dead dried wildflowers, a broken plastic ring and half a pack of left over Hubba Bubba chewing gum we used the last day we were together for a bubble blowing contest, that he won. I wonder if maybe the lesson here is that if you don't ask for anything, that's exactly what you get.  Or maybe its something else completely.  I shake my head when the reality of my decision sets in and I wonder how I will stand the loneliness of a 4th winter in what to me feels like these desolate, North Georgia mountains.   A small voice inside me whispers "like you always do", with humor.  I am not naive enough to think that setting this terrible loss to laughter, as a musician sets the lyrics to the melody, will in any way lessen the truth of my pain nor slow the flow of my tears.  Even now a small drop appears on the Hubba Bubba and I admit that all I got from "getting back in the saddle again" was saddle sores and a broken heart.