About six months ago, I decided to put myself through a romance detox. That has now ended, albeit a few weeks later than anticipated. I actually forgot the date I started this lark. Now I realise it served little purpose (I’ll get to those in a minute, the little purposes it did serve), and well, it just seems it was a frivolous endeavour to embark on in the first place.
However, I did learn one or two things, and confirmed a few other things.
A bit over a month ago, I decided to put myself through a self-proclaimed romance detox. Problem is, I made the amateur mistake of not making a list of what that included and excluded. Ha! Yes, what to steer clear of, etc. Seems obvious, right? One item on list, then:
Blokes
Anyway, seems that this is difficult to do, unless you’re a devout nun in the northern reaches of Siberia. Which, of course, I’m not.
It’s obviously not quite this simple and there are always things to keep in mind. The platonic factor is one, random people in the public domain, colleagues and work circumstances, the few blokes I share genetic material with and so forth.
Tangled Pretzel 