Keep calm and suck it up…

I am very thankful to everyone for all the lovely condolences, kind words and concern I received since last Tuesday and regarding the news contained in my last post.

The pending question seems to be how I am holding up these days…
Besides lounging in bed most of the day, using metaphorical scotch tape to repair the gaping void I currently feel, hugging my other dog, watching marathon episodes of ‘New Girl’ while drinking diet root-beer and eating dark chocolate and sweet potato fries…
What can I say?


Define ‘OK.’

Suck it Harris…

My late mother had your book – she was a hypochondriac and did little else than eat cheese cake topped with Cool-whip and maintain elevated sales levels for The Home Shopping Network from her king size bed. Living proof that just because you get your book on the New York Times Best Seller List – It basically means you sold a lot of books.. and THAT’S IT. It doesn’t change a fucking thing except your own bank account. Bring on the next New York Times best-selling shrink to temporarily brainwash the masses…

Try me. I have more moods than Sybil these days.

Can't they just get along?

Can’t they just get along?

Again I’ll give Italy (that bitch), credit where it’s justly due – Despite my disenchantment with the obvious (being poor and Italian men) I did have sunshine, a rock star diet, and at least some momentary bursts of zen. Which is more than what I can say for my current situation of living in a central heated oasis of sweet fuck-all.  Moving on….

used to

In other non-news…

I currently have no profiles on internet dating sites as I have deemed it futile and have no patience nor desire. I continue to have almost daily correspondence (now for the past 4+ months) and semi-regular voice calls with one fabulous mystery gentleman residing far across the ocean, one who is fantastic in so many ways and claims to be quite fond of yours truly (and likewise), and is generally VERY nice to everyone…

But doesn’t there alway have to be at least one lip-curling, teeth-grinding irritation or quasi deal-breaker that can just make a gal see red?


In this case I give you: ‘The Good Friend’… who conveniently just happens to be female. The ‘good friend’ he visited over New Years in her far away corner of Europe, the friend he can never stop praising on FB, the friend he refers to as ‘fabulous’ or ‘gorgeous,’ or ‘stunning’ when he posts a portrait he took of her over the holidays, the friend who is sitting next to him in the goofy photo he uses for his FB profile, the friend he swears is ‘just a good friend’ but who his other friends, random strangers, or me for that matter –  could possibly think he is alternately either dating, or sappy-sweet on. Come on!

For clarity sake, I’m not jealous. I have nothing to be jealous of in my opinion. I just don’t like it. It bugs me. I don’t like it’s impression, I don’t like the thought that I may be being used as a ‘distraction’ – if he indeed has a secret crush on her, and I especially don’t want someone telling me they like me quite a lot then have to see these FB post of Ms. Fabulous. It makes it more difficult to get to know someone this way. I know he is a nice person, VERY nice but …

How nice is too nice?
Is he hiding his real affection for someone else out in the open?

The verdict is still out.

For once despite my compromised state of full-blown PMS, I shall not be catty and dissect any of Ms. Fabulous’ physical attributes (ie. her large head that sits on her stick-body) or poke fun at her occupation, or the car she drives for that matter. As I don’t even have a job or a car. I shall rise above and NOT be THAT girl  – except for the former reference in parenthesis. I am going to suck it up. Why? Because he is one of the few men I have met in a very long time that hasn’t been a total shit to me, he is thoughtful, and generous, and who knows? Maybe he is just is REALLY NICE, has earned a fair shot, would step up to where no man has gone before, and would let me eat the last banana.

Yes, I am going to behave myself, give him the benefit of the doubt,
and NOT be a jerk.


Unless of course he calls her ‘sexy,’ then all bets are off.



About Cakes McCain

Aka. 'Oliver Twist with Furniture and Diamonds' Ex-pat, lunatic, survivor - A Bridget Jones/Shirley Valentine hybrid, epically flawed, neurotic literary ‘dirty apple’ with a penchant for broad shoulders, epic orgasms, & lazy Sunday mornings eating cake in bed. Almost always broken-hearted, forever analysing everything to a bloody pulp and eternally obessing over 'Pasta for One - The Manuscript' a chick-lit memoir about living single in fabulous Italy, while trying not to throw yourself in front of a speeding bus.
This entry was posted in boredom, chocolate, dating, dating rejects, depression, European men, friendship, hook-ups, humour, internet dating, Italian life, Italy, Italy living, Life in Italy, Living in Italy, losers, love, online dating, players, relationships, self examination, self help, self loathing, single girl, social misfit, trust, Uncategorized, web dating and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Keep calm and suck it up…

  1. MJ says:

    Aaaw…well, hmph. I wouldn’t like a Stick Insect sitting next to a man I liked either. Particularly a FABULOUS one. On Facebook of all places. I understand. Mr. Waldenbooks used to praise this particular girl who would walk around town wearing transparent blouses sans bra! He would talk about her “stunning nipples”. I never knew what to say that. Me and my bra would always feel….inferior somehow. I digress…Stick Insects, nipples, and my bra aside, you ARE stunning and fabulous in your own right. Don’t forget that.

  2. SweetBabyJ says:

    Cakes, Cakes, Cakes….
    I wanted to write last week and send my condolences about Ramona. However, everytime I started, I welled up thinking of my own dog’s passing last year and couldn’t get a word out. Hell, I grieved harder for my dog than I did for either of my ex-husbands. After reading this post, I’m able to send my condolences and say I’m happy to see you’re on the mend (current post is characteristically Cakes). As for your mystery man; he doesnt’ have to be Mr. Right, but Mr. Right Now isn’t a bad second place. Ride it out, he seems to be making you feel good, for now. Ask yourself, how fabulous can she really be with a large head on a stick body? Mystery man isn’t seeing her clearly, and you know what that means. Big head, little head, they get confused sometimes.
    Chin up, go hug your other dog. That’s an unconditional love that will never fade.

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