Insulting my injury (I typed this with one hand)

Yes, that is in fact, a finger. My horribly swollen, disfigured, heinously ugly, sausage-shaped right pointer finger. I'm fairly certain that this is not supposed to happen in co-ed beer league softball.

But it did.

Upon viewing this picture, one of my former teammates from the good 'ol glory days of my professional middle school/high school sports career noted that she'd never seen me with an injury this ugly. Ever. Through broken noses, broken ankles, monster bruises, raspberries from the hardwood, oozy scrapes and scabs from the times that sliders were forgotten beneath gym shorts before running the bases.

And then, she congratulated me on a job well done.

Because every "athlete" knows that success is measured by badass battle wounds.

Not evidenced photographically, however, is the fact that - a mere three to four hours later - my insides felt exactly like that finger looks.

You see, I have stubbornly refused to give up on Tony Romo for reasons unbeknownst to anyone. It's just crazy girl logic - sociologists could devote their entire lives to unravelling the mysteries of crazy girl logic and get abso-fucking-lutely nowhere.

So, being the Crazy Girl Syndrome (CGS) afflicted lady that I am, I subtly confronted Tony Romo about our seemingly abundant amount of chemistry during softball-related functions, and lack thereof outside of the softball-league-universe. In the nicest, least crazy way I possibly could, mind you.

And, in the words of Cher Horowitz, was brutally rebuffed.

And, in the spirit of CGS, cried my way home for 60 blocks in the back of a cab.

While battle wounds may be badass in the world of competitive sports, the inverse is true when it comes to the dating game.

In sports, the uglier the better. The more pain, the more euphoria in recounting the details of the wound. People eat that shit up. And you're branded a rockstar.

In love, the uglier the details, the less likely you'll receive any title befitting awesomeness - wounds equate failure and not success. And all you'll have are insides as broken as that finger pictured above.

But the good news is, the finger is slowly becoming less puffy and swollen, and so are the insides.

Which is helpful, because while there are other (better) Tony Romos out there, these are the only insides I've got.