i've always thought that desperate times call for desperate measures. and so, much in the same way i've been trying to fast track my studying for the bar, i've also been fast-tracking my getting over the ex regimen.

in the beginning, it included listening to the national anthem of all break-ups "i will survive", deleting his contact numbers from my cell and important dates in my planner, and ramming every little thing he gave me inside a box. eventually, when the tears finally let out, it likewise involved telling myself in no uncertain terms will i ever initiate any form of conversation with him, not now, not ever, not even if it meant gasping for my last breath in the middle of the south luzon expressway and my only hope of salvation would be to dial his number. of course there was a moment of weakness when, after i couldn't figure out my ipod mini and my brother was refusing to help temporarily i dialled his number and asked for his help but it eventually passed when he was being an asshole over it and i realized that even if i were gasping for breath in the middle of south luzon expressway and he was my only hope for salvation he'd hesitate to give it, being, as i found out later, a real asshole as my brother and his friends have warned me time and time again.

when i finally accepted that there's no more going back THAT relationship, that i just miss having a boyfriend and not the boyfriend per se (it being, as my brother pointed out, merely SSDD - same shit different day), i decided that it was time to check out my other options. now, being at home most of the time, and being out only when i've to go to the bar review where men are basically interested in one thing - passing the bar - my choices have been narrowed down to one: my insurance guy.

now insurance guy isn't someone i'd date on a normal day, but as i've said, i'm an equal opportunity dater: i'd date anyone who'd ask (so long as he's decent, yadda yadda) at least once. however, while he's nice and he's clean, and he's obviously smitten, someone texting wazzup wid u? doesn't really do it for me. it just doesn't, especially when its followed by another text message which makes me want to whip out my red ballpen and begin correcting grammatical errors.

but as i said, desperate times, desperate measures. i knew i wanted to get out of this present rut real fast, and there was the lovely pair of shoes i wanted to road test on a date, and so i finally set the date. after a million text messages (if sony ericsson had a squiggly green line for every grammatically incorrect phrase or sentence my phone's screen would have been as green as the dlsu bleachers on a finals game) between us, we set the date, time, and place. for a while, i was a bit excited. after all, i haven't been in a real date since i began reviewing for the bar.

eventually, when the excitement wore off, i realized that: (1) shoes can be worn anyday, and (2) what would i do if my ex saw me.

and that's when i realized that desperate times don't call for desperate measures. they call for a really good excuse to cancel out a date you shouldn't have set in the first place.