It's time for the Monday Groan...

Yup. Fucked Junebug again.

Before you get out your torches and come chase me down and set me on fire for being a fucktard, it was different.

I was all, "You're a bitch afterwards." He said sorry.

I emailed him. He emailed me back. We've decided this is not worth screwing up our friendship over, so we stop now. Clean slate. I feel a bazillion times better about the whole thing.

"I don't want to be your boyfriend."

And looking at him, and all the months of emotional confusion over the whole deal, angels sang and swirled around my booze-filled head and I thought to myself.

I don't want you to be my boyfriend, either.

It was a simple matter of laying things out on the table and it alleviated all the shame building up over time that had been acting like a crown of thorns upon my fallen angel head.

I deserve a better boyfriend. But he'll be a great friend. And if he's not, well fuck it, I have better friends, too. No sweat off my back.

Done. And done.

Heaven help the man who meets a Taylor woman.