This one will be entitled, "What the fuck, Mister Doctor Man?"

Luckily, I'm in the middle of reading an epic fantasy.

I have been dumped and it is no use listing the misgivings that I was having before because they weren't deal-breakers for me yet.

I was just getting to the point that I was admitting to other people that I liked him. I like him still. He broke it off as well as could be expected and that makes me like him even a little more.

There's not much to say more on the subject. One of these days, I will be able to discern which man actually believes that I'm as fabulous as I know I am.

Until, then, I will read Phillip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass and try to ignore the small ache that is left behind as the fantasies that I have spun about our future have fled.