getting over it

Lately, i've been working a lot. This means that i've had to fit the other aspects of my life into smaller amounts of time. The rest of my life seemed to decide to do this too. Last week, i almost fell in love. And for any of you who know me well, you'll know this doesn't happen very often, if at all. Then, a few days ago, i found out he was a bastard. I really should have figured it out myself. Instead, I found out from a good friend who told me that he'd been after her the entire week we'd spent together, and while he was saying sweet and beautiful things to me, he was thinking of saying them to her as well. Irish guys are, I now know, bad news. So now, i feel confused and happy and sad. Happy because I know it wasn't anything that I did wrong, and that, because I told him to go fuck himself, I feel slightly more like the indian otter. (The indian otter, because of it's numbers, has the ability to push 3meter crocodiles out of it's territory simply by making noises not disimilar to a squeky ball.)

I am the indian otter. Crocodiles be warned.