Eventually, he will stop calling you.
You can beg and plead and insist things "were going perfect", but the truth is that it is inevitable.
I know, I know, it typically blindsides you on an idle Thursday afternoon when you realize that your inbox hasn't been flooded with messages from (who you thought was) Mr. Right. The Friday night invites out begin to dwindle down to random Tuesdays; and there is an unidentified girl in a sorority leaving suspicous comments on his facebook wall.
Without warning, the paranoid cyber-stalking increases and you realize you are incessantly checking your iPhone praying for a text message.
Its inescapable. Its part of the male DNA. I'm constantly trying to shove my theory onto my friends, I promise its valid.
Delete his number, get the ever faithful rebound men of Ben&Jerry, and get back in there.
Delete his number, get the ever faithful rebound men of Ben&Jerry, and get back in there.
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