Am I Still Ill?

My partner of eleven years would not appear to be over-endowed with either brains or common sense.

I just texted him. Yes, gentle reader, I committed a felony. Texting my ex-partner.

But what poor Tricky Dicky REALLY can’t handle is having to come to terms with his own choices, all down the line.

In his world, only other people make choices. And even then only if they are named Zoe, not if they rejoice in the moniker Nora, Barbara or Angela.

But then he tells my Mum on the phone today (she still permitted to speak to him without breaking the law) that he wants to remain neutral! Hah! A little late for that I think you’ll find.

So I am now officially (though unwillingly) free and single folks. Looking for someone with a little nouse this time around. A soupcon of moral courage would also come in handy. An interest in human psychology a definite advantage. Some street smarts and maybe even a liking for hip hop? Ah Zoe. Dream on.

All I do know is. When it becomes painful to think down to your ex-partner’s level, it’s time to move on.