Gypsy Mom Goes to a Bull Roast

A couple of months ago I bought tickets for Ex-Guy and I to go to a bull roast with a bunch of our friends. Now this seemed like a fantastic idea until Ex-Guy went a got a wild hair up his butt and dumped me.

In assuming my single gal status, my friend and her hubs picked me up for the ball in their chariot....er .... SUV. We get to the hall, cop a squat at our tables, filled up some draft beers and globbed our plates with buffet nosh. Things were looking right fine.

Being that this was my first outing since the big split, I was sweating it. Like a lot. I started to prepare myself for the "Where's Ex-Guy" and "Aww, heard about you and Ex-Guy".... blah, blah, blah.

Well no sooner had I finally exhaled and started to grub away, when the subject of Valentine's Day came up and all of the things that people did that didn't involve candy and cards and crap like that. So when one gal pal mentions that she had gone to a bar crawl on Vday, I say that's what I should've done - then another chick say "Yea, there's a lot of things you should've done" and starts cracking up with another girl a'la inside-joke style.

Uh, 'scuse me?

Pardon moi?

Oh but she followed it up with a, "but I love ya".

Huh.

Yea, so you can bite that one.