Good Luck Chuck?

I have a feeling…I’m a good luck chuck.

I know what you’re thinking. “Good luck chucks” don’t exist. They aren’t real. Fiction. Imagination. Figments of your drunken “dammit why did I call/text/sleep with” him mind.

I beg to differ.

I, cakerypapery, am a Good Luck Chuck. (minus the fact that I do not at all look like this.)

Now, like any good CSI NCIS agent profiler, you should be asking, “cakerypapery, why?”

Let’s just say that…through drunken texting not-so-flattering methods I’ve discovered that not one, not two, but FOUR ex bfs are now either happily dating or engaged. Dating, okay. But ENGAGED? ARE YOU SHI*TTING ME LIFE??

Point of reference: before you say that it’s “just a matter of time,” we are talking multiple recent exes. Within the period of “wow, that serious already?” timeframe.

Not to mention, our lovely january dirtbag is also back online dating.

(yes, I stalked.)

(and yes, that line about being “overwhelmed” was really just a crock of sh*t. since he’s already looking for a new girl ONLINE.)

(And seriously, I don’t ever want to encounter a “crock of sh*t” in real life. I bet it would smell. Bad.)

And no, aforementioned guys aren’t serial monogamists. Apparently, all it takes is a nice Catholic girl like me to break the ice. AWESOME. Glad I could help out with that.

Which just proves that all the reasons people use to break up, especially the “it’s not you, it’s me” line, are really la verdad. Because, guess what? IT’S NOT ME, IT IS YOU. and, you are just NOT THAT INTO ME.

If anyone (man or woman), needs a handy dandy powerpoint reference to help them remember that busy is the kiss of the death and you deserve a freaking phone call, shoot me an email.

til then, throw that fish back into the sea. Better yet, throw it onto dry land before some other person is tricked into hooking it.

A great post involving a sure fire way to get over someone (and not by getting under someone) to follow. Let’s just say…milk, jameo and some serious DIY.

When I’m done being bitter, maybe I’ll be slightly flattered that I have this amazing ability to make people realize what they really want. Which, as a consequence of said magical powers, usually happens to not be me. sigh…insert Bridget Jones reference here…

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Just throw that fish back into the sea.

Because I’m not a ‘wait and see’ kind of girl.

Adding to what I’m sure will become a continual series on my life as Bridget Jones, I’m going to take a moment to rant and rave about my phone conversation with previously posted about dirtbag guy (thanks mom!). Said guy is “too busy” and “overwhelmed” and “wants to stay friends.”

Well, here’s how I see it. As much as romantic comedies Taylor Swift songs try to trick me into believing that he really wants to be friends and that things will work out, reality and life experience has taught me otherwise.

If you don’t have time for me as your girlfriend, then you definitely don’t have time for me as a friend. And why do I want to be friends with someone who says I make them feel overwhelmed? And, for the record, I don’t need more friends. Saying you want to stay friends is code for “I’m never going to speak to you again but I have no balls so I think this lame line about friends will lessen my guilt and then I don’t look like such a douche.”

Did I mention the part where he said he wanted to ‘wait and see’ where things were in three months? Because, really, I’ve got absolutely NOTHING better to do than wait around for some guy to wake up and realize what a great girl I am.

Yeahhhhhhh, riiiiiiiiiiiight.

My Mom is awesome, but that book is cursed.

My mom is awesome sauce.

She taught me how to cook. And that you should eat the broken cookies before someone sees them. And she’s very crafty, especially skilled in sewing buttons back onto a certain red coat of mine.

But what makes her most awesome is that she always has my back.

Take this weekend. My dad was grilling me like a juicy steak about why I wasn’t seeing a guy I had been dating anymore.

Dad: “Come on, give me some dirt!”

Mom: “The only dirt you need to know is that if he doesn’t like our daughter then that guy is a dirtbag!”

And that is why I love my mom.

See, she even laughs when I do funny things to my pregnant sister.

(In related news, I swear the ex-boyfriend book I used to craft is cursed. While it did make amazingly good paper flowers, said paper flowers were displayed at a party where aforementioned guy-i’m-no-longer-seeing decided that he just wasn’t that into me. Bad ex-boyfriend book karma?)