Sunday, 29 June 2008

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 clich├ęd 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.

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