I hate Chick-Flicks

In hindsight, I hate watching chick-flicks. Yes, they leave you with that warm tingly feeling when the couple end up living happily-ever-after, but they don't half put a downer on any relationship you're in when you realise that you just don't have that clichéd happiness.

This post is not being written in an attempt to count the ways in which Steve and I are failing. And, for the record, we're not failing. We just happen to be arguing this week - over pathetic things.

As well as a hatred for chick-flicks, I have discovered a hatred for boyfriends-reading-journals.
When I gave Steve the address to this we weren't together. We'd broken up, and I wanted him to read it to reassure him that there wasn't somewhere on the internet where he was being bad-mouthed. I suppose I wanted him to know that I'd been honest with him, and I wasn't telling him one thing and then thinking(/writing) something totally different.
But then we got back together and, of course, the URL stayed the same.

It's just, when a boyfriend has access to a journal, they over-read into things, but never 'comment'. They never comment online, and they never comment in conversation. They just sit and stew. It's like what is written is obviously a brain spill of mine, but it's not been spoken about, so it's just left as a piece of literature.

I was about to continue by saying that I didn't like the imbalance of honesty. I thought that maybe my honesty via my blog somewhat out-weighed my honesty in person. And that people aren't usually so open about how they feel... but, well, I am bloody honest. Regardless of whether it's written or spoken; I generally get out what I want to say and vent about what is upsetting me.
I just can't have it any other way.
If there is something upsetting me then I can't just bottle it up. If I try to keep quiet about something, I end up venting and blowing it out of proportion. I suppose that's what I've done tonight.

But, in a chick-flick, my boyfriend wouldn't have upset me. And if he had, he'd have groveled. Therefore, in conclusion; I hate chick-flicks. They set girls up to be disappointed.