party of one, again

There comes a time in every woman's life when a relationship goes to Hell in a handbag. I'm experiencing just such a time now. Suffice to say said relationship is not coming back anytime soon, nor do I expect a postcard. Actually, I'm thinking may it rest in peace. The relationship that is. I have other thoughts for Mr. X-boyfriend, none of which are family friendly at the moment.

Surprisingly just a mere week and a half since the alleged split I've quit getting misty eyed thinking about all the time I've wasted. My apartment is cleaner than ever. I've seen my parents more in the last several weeks. Spent time with friends whom Mr. X didn't want to hang out with. But I'd be lying to say its been a cakewalk. I've felt the usual sadness and emptiness that any breakup brings.

While I could drown my sorrows in chocolate or a stiff drink - I've instead turned my attention back to the kitchen.
Experimenting with tastes and worrying about pleasing no one. I don't have to have dinner on the sofa by five o'clock (yep that's right "Xman" preferred eating with his plate balanced on his chest while lying on the sofa like a goddamn otter floating in a stream) - I may dine at eight on the balcony with proper silverware and linens - eat eggs for dinner if I so care.

I think in this empty space I may just find heaven. Hell can keep the handbag.