I am pissed off

I have decided to write this blog because I am pissed off. Several months ago, I was invited to join Facebook by an ex-boyfriend (whom I still loved at the time), and when I went to his page, it turns out the fucker's engaged and didn't have the balls to tell me. When I pointed this out to him he says, (of course), "I thought I told you!" Bastard. So today (at 4am), I thought about developing that Facebook page (I didn't have the heart to actually do it once I found out that my reason for creating one was to connect with a bastard who is now betrothed to someone else), and I was going to rant and rave there. Then I thought, hmmmmm....maybe I shouldn't do that. After all, employers typically Google prospective employees, and if I ever lose my job, I don't want to be blacklisted because all potential employers could read my Facebook page and see how unstable I am. And I am very mentally unstable. I have thought several times in the past few days about just how I'm going to kill myself. I've tried doing it once before (obviously unsuccessfully), and I'm thinking about doing it again. However, I realize this is impractical, because one can't die without pain, and I don't REALLY want to put myself through any pain. What I really don't want is a botched suicide that leaves me paralyzed, a vegetable, or otherwise unable to do the things I do now. That's what I'm really afraid of. So why do I want to kill myself? One word: men. I have had the WORST luck with men, and I just don't fucking get it. I have no idea why. I am not a bitch. I don't drive them away with my ranting or nagging. Just the opposite. I am very nice and loving. Perhaps that's the problem. Maybe I need to be a bitch. I have been thinking that that's exactly what I'll do. And I just might. If I can bring myself to do it. Trouble is, I don't really want to be a bitch, so will that make me happy? Not. But what else is there to do? Because whatever it is I'm doing now sure as hell isn't working. So, what's this about men that pisses me off? The fact that they are ALWAYS disappearing on me. I have had no less than six men disappear on me. Their names are: Tim, Ariel, Bradley (after whom I tried taking a shitload of sleeping pills), Tony, Keith, and now the latest: Brandon. I haven't talked to Brandon in pretty much over a week. The motherfucker went to Corona last Monday for a job, and he hasn't texted me since. I called and left a message on Wednesday asking if he was OK because he usually texts me nearly everday (hadn't talked to him after he left my house on Sunday morning after we had had hot, passionate sex three times in one night), and he did text me back. However, if I hadn't called, he wouldn't have texted, so it's pretty much like he disappeared after he left my place on Sunday. What a fucking bastard. Is that all he wanted - the sex? Couldn't he just ask for it without pretending so much like he wanted a fucking relationship? I probably would have given it to him, because I like sex just as much as he does (and he's very good at it). Why do men have to be so damned sneaky about shit all the time? Really fucks me up. Which is why my name is Canu Fukmee. I'm just waiting for the next guy to come along and fuck me over - both literally and figuratively, because apparently, that's all I'm good for. And I really don't get it - I mean, I'm very good looking, if I can say so myself, I have very large, beautiful brown eyes, I have medium-to-long hair, I have beautiful skin, I have a beautiful smile, I am very active, I have a hot body, I am very intelligent, and I am a good girl (with just a touch of a wild streak), so why do men feel like they can't be in a relationship with me? What the fuck is wrong? This guy, I was focusing on him - asked him what he wanted for breakfast, what is his favorite beer was so I can be sure to have it in my fridge when he got here, gave him a back rub without expecting one in return, etc. Did I shower him with too much affection and he figured out he could fall in love with me too quickly and then he bolted because he couldn't handle it? I don't know, and I will probably never know (see ex-boyfriend above) because even if I ask him, he will probably never tell me the truth. It is 4:29am, and I have been drinking like a sailor over this problem. How the hell am I supposed to get up at 6am to go to work? Am I going to have to call in sick? I sure as hell hope not. I don't know what I'm going to do. I cannot get my mind to stop spinning (not just from the alcohol, but from the fact that yet again, I've been taken advantage of). I don't know how I am going to get through this. And you know the worst part? I feel like I'm being a pussy. I mean, there are other people with WAY bigger problems than me, so why the hell am I wasting my time having a pity party for myself because a hot chick like me can't get laid every night (or every other night) like I want to and because I'm in my 30s, still not married, with few prospects in sight, and I can't even get into a relationship. The last real relationship (where we actually liked each other) that I was in was about 5-6 years ago. Yeah, that's right - 5 or 6 YEARS! The ex-boyfriend from above was 11 years ago - yeah, YEARS! And I did have a "boyfriend" about 2 years ago, but I really couldn't stand his ass. He was nothing more than a big penis (and he knew it). That's another story. This blog is getting long. How about I cut it off here (no pun intended). Sigh...I feel better already.