Pardon me while I go on a tangent for a moment. (Gosh, I am such a nerd when my brain automatically goes to Trig-mode when I use the word tangent.)

So, I've mentioned before how I wish I would have had the foresight to change the names in my phone of all the dudes I had no intention of talking to again to "Do Not Answer." The last few days, I have been overwhelmed with reasons to be grateful that I am no longer on the market.

2008-2010 were my years of dating exploration. I went on lots of dates with many different guys. Some dates were great... like the guy who snuck me into a closed bowling alley without telling me he worked there, but never told me...that was pretty cool. Then there were some that were no so great... like the guy who took me to this redneck bar and then took me some place random in Mansfield or Stonewall or somewhere... to watch the stars... I ended up watching my skin swell from mosquitoes and hearing strange animals around me. Oh, and the random abandoned toilet was great ambiance too. Thank goodness he wasn't a serial killer. And there were a couple who seemed like good guys, but I just wasn't that interested in, for whatever reason... and you know how guys are... they think you're being hard to get and it takes months to get rid of them.

The other day, I got a text message from a number I didn't recognize. Immediately, I feel a sense of dread because I have no idea if this is someone I have tried to forget... like the photography guy who hides the fact that he's married, or the guy with the Family Guy tattoo. Eeek.

Well, it was neither. It was one of those guys who I thought was very nice, but just wasn't feeling it. He has been involved with someone about as long as I have been with my boyfriend, and from what I have seen (Facebook supposedly randomly deleted me), his girl has really turned things around for him. This made me very happy. I was so glad he had moved on and found someone who not only appreciated him, but who made his life better and happier than I could have made him.

First he asked if I was still with my boyfriend. I told him yes and gave him a brief rundown of the year which has been more eventful than the last 10 years of my life combined. He told me he is getting married... this weekend! Wow, how exciting! I was so excited for him... but that begged the question... "Why are you talking to me when you're getting married next week?!?"

Well, he said he just wanted to check in with an old friend. A friend that he hasn't checked in with in over a year, mind you. I tell him how sincerely happy I am for him and glad that he found someone like her because I knew I would never make him as happy as she did. That's when he replied, "Well, I wouldn't go that far, but I am happy."


Dude, if a girl decides she is going to marry you, and your last name is harder to spell than Natchitoches, you should probably turn your life around and be a good guy. I mean, I go by Ally for a reason... my REAL name is too difficult to say, and hits a nerve that would cause me to be on the top floor of LSU if I had to hear everyone say my name wrong every single day. And I LOVE my real name, it's beautiful, but for some reason, when my name is said wrong and I correct you like 4 times, I start to lose my patience and my mind. Anyway, my point is, if a girl is WILLINGLY going to take on your weird last name... MAKE IT WORTH IT. Because having a bad husband AND a bad last name, is not cool. Trust me... I know.

Anyway, I have decided to give my sweet boyfriend a break. I don't care of my boyfriend wears his lumberjack looking jacket with his overalls and crazy red beard. That's fine. Take me to Outback in it, baby, because at least you're not like the guy that tried to date me who didn't even know the alphabet. Yeah...gosh, I really thought I had forgotten all this stuff.

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