My Broken HeartI was just starting to get over him, Scotty. It had been a month since he ripped my heart out and poked it with a stick. He just didn’t love me the way I loved him. Scotty said, “It’s not fair to you.” What a load of steaming monkey shit. He just wanted to go party with younger boys. Now I’m left with the after math of his inability to commit or be truthful.

I had to returned the V-day gift I bought him Just before his birthday, Dec. 31st. A rose dipped in gold. Not an over the top gift, but from the heart. The girl at the jewelry store felt so bad. She remembered how hard it was for me to get the damn thing in the first place. Plus, come on, I’m a blogger. I don’t have any money, yet. I had to called Mike, an old chef buddy, to cancel the “special” reservations at his overly booked restaurant. “Well, you can still come. Maybe we could get something going on in the kitchen.” Nice idea, I’d like to slinging high dollar hash again. But not right now. Not on that day.
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