Recipe no°12: Cold As Ice

2 shots Zicam nasal gel

1 Non-drowsy Sudafed

1 Tylenol Cold PM (if desired)

as much hot liquid as you wish

Insert Zicam shots up each nostril every 4 hours. Mix the rest of the ingredients as needed. Garnish with thousands, and thousands of tissues; finish with a generous helping of Vick's Vap-o-rub.

Lucky for me, being enrhumée this week (what a great word, sounds like I got run over by a rhinoceros) kept me from making what apparently all y'all think is potentially the worst dating mistake in the history of the entire world: seeing G. again. Yes, I get it. He is bad news. Ironically, I was trying to give a fair and balanced opinion of him in my last entry; the negative effect it had on the greater public was overwhelming. Not all responses appeared as posts on the blog; elsewhere, I was even accused of liking G. "because he is French". OK, I will admit I moved here in part to lower my standards a teensy, eensy bit, but if I were attracted to people based on the mere fact that they speak the language of my beloved Balzac (to whom I am STILL not attracted), I would not still be shoppin' for a copain. Already I've shot down several would-be wooers, from a 22-year old student with a ponytail to a 50-year old café server who admired me from afar. Non, non, it is not G.'s Frenchness that holds his appeal.

But less and less I am remembering what DID hold it in the first place, if it was not the timeless age-old trick that always sucker-punches me: he likes ME. Obviously this does not work for everyone (see above) but if you're mildly cute and entertaining (and my age)...

Yeah, yeah; I'm working on that old self-esteem, ok? Does it help if I mention that G. is not only a plumber, but a self-proclaimed graffiti artist? That he kissed me on the forehead when saying goodnight, and said HE wanted to take things slow?

Well, thanks to my internet friends, it's going to go glacially, planet-formingly slow. We didn't see each other again this weekend, and my illness has prevented me from wanting to spend time with other sentient beings. I can only hope that R.'s proven technique of "not talking ever again" to someone will work, but unfortunately I'm not as, let's say, resolute as she can be. Which is a problem. My real plan: when he surfaces again, as I'm sure he will, I will say that since last week I've had some time to mull over the fact that he LIVES WITH HIS EX and that I don't think it's the right time but we can be friends blah blah *** (here's where I choke on the attack of the killer clichés that I hate but have not yet found anything with which to replace them).

Wow, I really know how to pick 'em, don't I? Did I mention he also does deliveries, in addition to graffiti-ing and plumbing? 

Where do the literature boys hang out??