I just re-read my old diary entires.
My last entry made me sound like a C U Next Tuesday, but I'd like to put it into perspective.
After my husband left, I drank so much wine I vomited down myself. Openly puked down my bra. I then perked up and drunk some more.
Sexy beast that I was, I drank and cried, and passed out, and cried some more, until I found a relationship.
We did the same shit but with less puking. Total rebound. Lasted over a year.
Then I realised being along isn't so frightening.
I now have a normal relationship, no puking, and I love