I was feeling cruddy last night, but I told myself to hold out until 9:30 to call Benito to see if I could go over there just to sleep. At 9:15 there was a knock at my door with Benito surprising me with a hug and a bottle of wine.

It�s amazing how that works.

We spent the rest of the evening (and slightly into the morning hours) on the couch, talking and drinking plenty -- including a second bottle of Merlot from the 7-11 across the street.

Well, eight days later he flaked on me. That�s the end of that. So be it.

No sympathy notes or calls needed. My fuck-it mentality is back. After one day of moping, yesterday snapped me exactly back where I was six months ago -- the first time he flaked -- without me having to relive those retched post-breakup two to three weeks.

It�s not to say that I�m not sad or disappointed (or outright pissed), but really... I can�t do anything except roll my eyes and sigh.

It�s absolute horseshit. �