Those of you who ever lived or actually still live in Africa will be able to understand this analogy. Remember how back in the day (don't know if its still the practice) you could buy a live chicken and take it home to kill, skin and cook? remember sometimes how after looking forward to the whole 'we are going to eat chicken huha' the damn animal smells death and does a runner and those members of the household unfortunate enough to still be called kids would have to chase the damn animal across the yard until you eventually catch it or until your intended dinner escapes from the yard never to be seen again?........I wonder sometimes whether calling a coward 'chicken' was solely derived from such incidents.
To cut a boring story short, I chickened out, I dilly dallied so long making a decision that in the end there was no decision to be made. I realised that if you have to 'think' so long about being with someone no matter how loving or adorable they were, then you have no business being with them in the first instance. So I took the easy way out and did the runaway chicken on him, I feel guilty, he feels hurt he says he thought i was coming round. I have been hurt before so I try by all means to avoid hurting any other human being cause I know how it feels, so as much as the thought of being with him was an attractive prospect I don't love him, I need to totally and completely be free from any baggage from my previous relationship before i can even think of being in another relationship.
He looked at me for 10 solid minutes, ten minutes sitting opposite me not saying a word just looking at me and then he got up kissed me on the forehead and left closing the front door gently behind him but i felt as if he had banged it shut. So much was said in those 10 mins of silence then we could have said in ten minutes of conversation.So I'm officially the runaway coward a chicken. I guess as much as you cant help who you love, neither can you help who you don't love.
To those who were awaiting with bated breaths photos of the new boudoir you can now breath out. the stupid bed broke, well part of the head board that is, and no I wasn't getting down and dirty with anybody, funny thing was I was bouncing up and down the thing, you know just testing it out just in case well, what the hell I was just testing to see how strong it would be under pressure. Next thing I know the the thing snaps crack and one half of the thing lands on the floor, mschwwwwww that bed was my pride and enjoy, so I'm having to dismantle it and take it back to the damn shop, am so infuriated will have to face the humiliation of the staff looking at me with knowing eyes like they soooooo know what i did last night, If only they knew.
I went to a fortune teller a few weeks ago, actually I stumbled across her quite by accident. She had quite a few things to say to me, some ridiculous, some incredibly accurate, some bizarre and some ........and some that are best left undisclosed, will definitely blog about it sometime.
I'm not in the habit of wearing 'lucky knickers' or lucky pants, but when you have been so unfortunate in love you tend to think that actually that might not be such a bad idea after all. Picture this hot sunny day, I stop at the traffic light, car purrs up on my left, decent Audi TT drop top, 2006 registration, heart stopping eye candy of a hunk at the wheel, he smiles at me and winks suggestively I smile back, he blows me a kiss, i think that's silly I laugh, I start playing within my hair (a sure sign that I'm probably interested, I pray for the traffic light to remain red just for a bit longer, he indicates that i should follow his car, and as he points to the left, horror of horror the hunk has on a wedding ring, I'm indignant, traffic lights turn green, he zooms off, I'm left wanting to follow him so that I can give him a piece of my mind...I decide against it, serves me right for flirting with random pervs at traffic lights, note to self, next time at the lights look straight ahead !!!!!!!!!
Those of you who ever lived or actually still live in Africa will be able to understand this analogy. Remember how back in the day (don't know if its still the practice) you could buy a live chicken and take it home to kill, skin and cook? remember sometimes how after looking forward to the whole 'we are going to eat chicken huha' the damn animal smells death and does a runner and those members of the household unfortunate enough to still be called kids would have to chase the damn animal across the yard until you eventually catch it or until your intended dinner escapes from the yard never to be seen again?........I wonder sometimes whether calling a coward 'chicken' was solely derived from such incidents.
