It looks like I've continued my absolutely fabulous streak when it comes to romance. It turns out that Mr. Potential Husband, as my friends call him, seeing as we have the same interests, has decided that he's more comfortable being friends. Great. Just great. I've managed to clear up the mystery as to why his rather enthusiastic initial approaches fizzled out, then returned, then fizzled out again. Let me just say that mixed signals are not something I can tolerate for an extended period of time and that this situation was really starting to get to me.

Anyway, I had an inkling that he might have decided to be friends in spite of his (still-apparent) interest in me. In a nutshell, he's got issues. And it's a little ironic that before the air was cleared, I had issues with the fact that he had issues, and that I didn't think in my current situation, being as busy as I am, that I could afford the time to support him - or anyone else - through his or her tough times when clearly, as someone who'd be dating him, I ought to do my best to be there for him whenever he needed someone.

Nevertheless, I'm royally p***ed off. I'm incredibly frustrated by the fact that there's no one here for me to blame. It's not his fault that his current situation is as it is. It's not my fault for liking him. It's just a matter of timing. But I'm really angry that I had to ask him in order to figure out what the deal was with him, that my feelings for him had grown this strong before I found out. I'm sick and tired of all the crap that's been happening in my so-called romantic life, and that all men seem to be jerks, one way or the other.

The only good thing that's come out of this is that my gang of friends have, after one of my off-the-cuff remarks about how I should spend my free time culling the male population of wimpy-assed-mixed-signalling individuals in order to ensure that the gene pool wouldn't be contaminated, decided that we should do something not as extreme as what I suggested, but instead, set up a service that enables females who are as frustrated as we are with me, to tell us which guy has done them a disservice, after which, we'll hunt them down and hand them notes with "YOU F***ER!" written on them. Of course, we'll have a scale with which to judge these guys so that we can grade them from a mere b*****d to a m**********r who should go f*** himself and die.