When a relationship ends under devastating circumstances, the best thing to do is to take some time alone, and to not jump into anything serious. Good advice, but when you reach the two year mark, beware. I have not had one date that has made me even consider bending over far enough to shave my overgrown legs. A lovelife this barren can actually drive you a bit bonkers. My recent solution that backfired? The Celebrity Crush.
A little background about me: I have all the inclinations of your basic stalker; although I like to believe I have some modicum of impulse control. The stalker side of me reared it's ugly head recently, after developing a crush on Ryan Reynolds, the comic actor. I became immediately infatuated and proceded to google him and fantasize about how we would meet and how I could get Alanis out of the way. Of course, I usually succeed in keeping most of my movie star obsessions safely under control, due to the extremely remote chance of any one of them entering my daily orbit of doggie poop bags and donut shop lunches. This convenient barrier to obsessive behavior derailed, however, when I realized that the movie set I had been passing by with the dogs for two weeks, and which had just wrapped, was the set of Ryan's latest movie. I have since been filled with rage. WHY CAN'T I MEET MY RYAN REYNOLDS!? If I had known, I would have hung out by the set, and Ryan would probably have sauntered by with a meat sandwich. Then I would have encouraged Scruffy to chase after him, surely initializing a courtship between us.
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