That’s not what I meant

If I had a nickel for everytime I heard that phrase, I’d be a rich man.

No phrase has gotten on my nerves more than this one. I find myself having less and less patience for people who overuse the phrase. It gets me frustrated because it’s just a crass way of excusing a thoughtless comment, but no one wants to admit it.

them: “Moving in with your boyfriend already?”

me: “Yeah, why not?”

them: “well, you know you and your history…”

me: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

them: “Don’t get insulted; That’s not what I meant…”

WTF? This happens to me all the time. Friends, co-workers, family and lovers all seem to think they can say whatever they want until I question it. I’m such a semantics sadist that I intentionally look for phrases that are worded improperly, so of course I’ll question their intention when something sounds insulting. That type of rude commentary might work with others, but not me.

In perspective, I guess it’s not so bad compared to someone being passive-aggressive instead. That’s just cause for a face punch.

The Peaking Duck Special

After years as a blogger, I find my hit counts to be dwindling down to mere double-digits. Nothing compared to my glory days as a Blogwhore finalist. I think I’ve narrowed it down to a reason: I’m not single anymore.

There, I said it. I’m no longer single, so my posts aren’t — for a lack of a better term — spicy anymore. Well, not as spicy as they used to be.

Gone are the drunken posts detailing my sordid encounters with the many boys of Waikiki. The posts about my menage-a-trois and bed jumping are but mere memories. My countless rants about the boys who broke my heart (Jake, if you read this, you still suck) have been replaced with grown-up stuff. Like trading in a box of condoms for a cooking apron.

Thinking about it makes me laugh: my god, so many boys have seen the interior of my Waikiki apartment since I’ve moved in there last November. It’s thoughts like that that remind me I’m a slut. But I digress…

What you readers don’t realize just yet is that *married life* can be bliss. Pure and unconditional bliss. Boundless rewards await you. Insecurities are quenched and doused like a bad fire. Lush and beautiful memories sprout where once there were trivial ones. Yes, there are scores of benefits that you will only begin to value once you’re in my shoes. Maybe then you’ll see the value of my more mature writing.

So, I’m sorry dear readers, but the old me is done. He will be missed.

Of course that doesn’t mean you won’t get a sassy tale of sex or two. I am TheCheyne after all.

Apartment Hunt update