Break Up With Her In August

Looking back on things, I've come to realize that I've been dumped in August before.

At least twice.

Maybe it's something about the time of year; maybe guys are more able to envision a future without their current girlfriend when it's sunny out, maybe wild oats need seeded in the summer months, maybe it's just co-incidence, I'm not sure.

But now that I have some weeks, months and years, behind my respective August breakups, I'm thinking it's maybe not such a bad time of year to be dumped.


Around here, it's the middle of summer. Things are bright, even on cloudy days, and generally, people are cheerful and tanned and wearing clothes that let you imagine what they might look like naked. (See, we're a temperate rainforest, we usually wear jackets. And jeans. Often with sweaters.)

It's easier to force yourself to get off the couch when it's summer and your hometown is buzzing with activities and cool things to see and do.

Plus, all the hottest guys seem to flock to this town when it's summer. Maybe it's the University kids coming back, or the tourists, or just local people taking a few days off to enjoy the weather, I don't know.

I just know I've been so enjoying wandering around lately and exchanging flirty smiles with very good-looking, summer-clothes-wearing guys. It does wonders for the self-esteem.

So, seeing as I'll eventually have another dude in my life, I guess I can at least ask him to break up with me in August. A far, far better time to mourn than mid-December, no?


July - Spirit of the West

January follows December with a month of rain.
February waits for March to spring back again.
April, May remove your clothes, so go expose your skin.
June comes on putting colour back into your limbs.

July lays a hint of blonde, straight through your hair
August may insist it's time we kiss, before we disappear

September is here, let the real New Year begin.
October wears the colour of a rusting piece of tin.
November we remember, pin a poppy over your left breast.
But December is a battleground for those of us who get depressed.

Oh but July throws a hint of blonde, right through our hair
August will insist it's time we kiss before we disappear,
We disappear...

And summer runs a hand of blond all though my hair
And August will insist it's time we kiss before we disappear



I think I've found some beautiful post titles for the next few months.




Happy Summer, everyone.