Too laaaaaaate to ‘pologize . . . it’s too laaaaaaaaate

So, Nancy replied. With no less than four messages, an IM apology to Andy, and a brand new bulletin detailing why she would not be posting any more bulletins.

Yeah, a little excessive, I think.

Her first message:

Exactly which part are you talking about? I wasn’t aware that I posted anything offensive. If I did, then I’m sorry. I never post anything that I feel would be offensive.

Way to play dumb, Nancy. Bravo.

Second message:

I went back and read the post over again, and I think I know what you are upset about. I was not referring to you, by the way…I actually did not have and still do not have any hard feelings towards you. I was extremely gullible myself when it came to [Todd] and he hurt me badly..long story. Anyhoo, I was referring to another girl he kept talking about(not you) that I thought he dropped me for to have sex with her. Again, not you. This was someone else. Some older girl. There were things I’m sure he never told you, just like he never told me. Pretty sure he was messing around with this particular girl before he broke up with me.
But it’s all water under the bridge now, bc I really don’t give a shit about what he’s doing anymore.
I am so sorry if you thought I was talking about you in the post. Very sorry.
I am usually very careful about what I post, and I guess I was feeling a little more open than usual last night.

First of all, I never said I was upset. I just said she needed to think before she posted.

Third message, with the subject “Hey, just thought I’d send a polite note”:

I just deleted that bulletin, I didn’t want it to make you or anyone else uncomfortable. I really am sorry. That was a long time ago, and did even make the connection at the time that you may think I was talking about you.
Shouldn’t have put any names in that one, period.
So, no hard feelings, okay? I actually was referring to someone else entirely. Sorry about any confusion. I feel like an ass, now. Well, it’s gone now.
Take care, [LRC].

This is my reply:

It’s OK, these things happen. It was just a misunderstanding. I didn’t know there was anyone else after you and before me — I just assumed it was me.

(For the record, I think she is lying, and I will tell you why in just a minute. I just know that she is sensitive, and it’s not really a big deal, and I believe she has learned her lesson, so I let her off the hook.)

Her REPLY to my reply:

Don’t worry about it. I hate hurting other people’s feelings, i really do…so I try my best not to do it.
I really should have proofread that bulletin before I posted it, though. i was about to fall asleep when i did that survey. But just to be safe, I’ve decided not to post anything anymore. I used to not to do it at all, then decided to try it and got caught up in it.
The fact is, I really don’t talk about my personal life very much at all, and for some reason this arena gave me more confidence to get out of my comfort zone and open up a little bit.
Well, don’t think I’ll be doing that anymore.
Take care, [LRC]. Hope to see you around.

This is a snippet of her IM conversation with Andy (because, of course, he shared it with me):

Nancy: So, I accidentally upset your friend, [LRC].
You know [LRC], right?
Andy:
Yes, she’s a bud.
Do you want me to pretend to you that she hasn’t already told me the situation?
Nancy: Well, I posted this bulletin on Myspace, answering a survey. One of the questions asked when my heart was first broken, and I made a comment about [Todd] back in high school. I wasn’t actually talking about her.
I didn’t realize that until after I went back and read it over again. I feel horrible.
Andy: It was a bad choice of words I think, but everyone has those moments.
Nancy: I’ve already sent her an email, apologizing. I was actually talking about another girl.
[Todd] did go out with [LRC] right after he dumped me, but there was this other girl I could’ve sworn he was with in between the two of us.
Andy: Well, here’s my 2 cents. It seems silly for an adult (you) to take a cheap shot at a child (anyone 14) 10 years after the fact.
[LRC] or not.

(See why Andy is my Guy BFF?)

So the part that I bolded and colored in orange is the part that makes me doubt her truthfulness. Oh well, whatever. She’s learned her lesson. Time to move on. Oh yeah, she also wrote a FREAKING LONG ASS bulletin about why she wouldn’t be posting any more bulletins (and the world cried at this news), but I’ll spare you that. I think she deleted it, anyway.

In other news, I got a call from BrownEyes yesterday. Apparently his phone was cut off before it was supposed to be disconnected, and he just got a new phone number. He has no reason to lie about that, so I believe him. We had small talk for a bit (how was your vacation, I’m going to this concert next month, blah blah blah), and then all of a sudden he says, “So, I may be moving back to [town I live in].”

Wha . . . ?

This is great news. BrownEyes and I really hit it off, but I didn’t get my hopes up about the situation because of the whole long distance thing. Now, if he ends up moving back here, we may have a chance to actually DATE and not just have sporadic little flings here and there.

So the possibility of that is making me a happy girl. He is also looking at a possible job in the next state over, but he says the job he’s interviewing for here is what he wants to do. He wants to get out of the field he’s currently in. Again, though, I’m not getting my hopes up. He is coming to town tomorrow because he’s interviewing for the job on Saturday (who has a job interview on Saturday?). I will keep you posted about the sitch. I know you’re just dying to know what happens next. Ha.

You know, I told Andy a couple months ago that I’d rather have a life filled with equal parts pain and happiness if it were an INTERESTING life, rather than a dull, painless existence. Well, I definitely got an interesting life! It seems like the craziest shit has been happening to me lately.

Oh, something I am NOT loving right this minute?

Disgust-o-rama! The bottom half of both my legs are covered in inexplicable bug bites. Something apparently tore my ass up at the beach, and this lovely sight greeted me Sunday morning when I woke up. Nice. I suppose it’s slightly better than the bruise, though, although this covers a larger surface area. I just hope they go away by this weekend. Wouldn’t want to scare away BrownEyes with my chicken pox-like bumps!

Will you still love me if I cop out on the title?

Well, I am back at work today, much to my chagrin. I am sooooo not worth a damn today. I don’t want do do anything. Not A Fucking Thing.

The beach was fantabulous. I got lots of sun and I am now several shades darker than some black women I work with. However, I must not have moisturized well enough last night because this morning when I looked in the mirror I looked like a 65-year-old woman. I had wrinkles around my eyes and I literally almost screamed at the sight. “So THIS is what I’m going to look like when I’m old?” I thought. Luckily my face went back to (semi-) normal post shower and about three applications of facial lotion.

BrownEyes called me the day before I left and told me to call when I was on the way down there. I called when we were about 45 minutes from our destination, we chatted for a bit, he had to go and said he would call me back, and I haven’t heard from him since. Men. I do not understand them.

Enough about the beach . . . on to the real reason for my post. There is a girl, whom I will call Nancy. Wayyy back in the day (I was 14 and I believe she was 15) she dated a guy I will call Todd. When she and Todd broke up, he began dating me. Seeing as how I was not previously friends with Nancy, I did not see the problem. Todd and I both liked each other, but I did not pursue him out of respect for Nancy. When Todd did pursue me, we started dating. Todd was my first boyfriend.

Because Nancy is a Super Awesome Gal, she made fun of me behind my back to her friends, mostly about my age (What the fuck? She is less than two years older than I am). I never did anything to her, but because Todd didn’t want her anymore, she decided to focus all her hatred on me, because it was probably easier that way.

I’ll bet you can gather from my blog that Todd and I are not together anymore. We broke up when I was sixteen. He was a gigantic asshat and treated me like shit. But, you live and learn.

Fast forward to about eight or nine years later, and Nancy begins dating my guy BFF, Andy. I tell Andy the whole Todd story and how I thought Nancy hated me. He assured me that she did not, in fact, hate me, that it was a long time ago and she could not care less about the whole situation.

I didn’t tell Andy at the time, but I did not believe him. I still got weird vibes from her.

So after dating for a few months, Andy broke up with Nancy because he claimed she was too “churchy” (Andy is agnostic). Now we are at the present.

Nancy is my MySpace friend. She is dating someone, and she constantly airs their dirty laundry through MySpace bulletins. You know those people . . . they share WAY too much about themselves through those damned bulletins and status messages. I usually read most of her bulletins because of this reason. What can I say? I’m nosy.

Well, her most recent bulletin had this little gem.

Who was the first person to break your heart?
[Todd] back in high school. He dropped me like a hot potato because I didn’t do things he wanted me to do…then immediately began going out with a girl that was way more gullible than I. Poor girl.

What. The. Fuck.

First of all, I WAS FOURTEEN. I was not even old enough to DRIVE A CAR yet, let alone make important life decisions such as whom to date/marry. He was cute. I was cute. We liked each other. It did not last. End of story.

So I replied to her with this:

Well that wasn’t very nice of you to say. Maybe you should think about that next time before you post another bulletin.

Short and to the point. I didn’t want to make a big fuss out of it, but I did want to serve her a nice hot slice of Humble Pie with an ice cold glass of Shut The Fuck Up.

I think Andy summed it up pretty well with this e-mail:

For an adult to take a cheap shot at a child (sorry, at 14… we’re all children) is a pretty crappy thing to do. Gullible? The hell? She was interested in him too. Hypocrite. How does that make her any better than you?!? He just happened to choose you (smart decision!) I don’t like people bringing up crap I did just a few years ago much less when I was 14. Sounds like someone hasn’t been able to let go for whatever reason. She could have answered the stupid question just fine and left you out of it. It sounds like she’s pouting because [Todd] chose someone prettier than her. You were, you are and if your mom is any indication you will remain prettier than her… she’s attractive to me, but you’re way higher on the attractiveness scale. I’d bet money if she were in a happy relationship with long-term potential she’d have answered differently. NO. I’m not saying you should in any way excuse this… I think you were in the right to call her out on this. Well, as the eldest of the three of us maybe I’m the best qualified to point out the most gullible among us… and just between me and you… it ain’t either of us Just go build your stupid church (wall) and quit saying crap about my friend.

Damn straight, Andy!

Also on my shit list? Murray. I am seriously thinking of changing his pseudonym to Lazy Dumb Fucker Worthless Piece of Shit, because that is what he is. I asked him to dog-sit my dogs while I was away. I’ll call them MamaDog and BabyDog because, der, one is the mama and one is the baby. The only reason I asked him is because he said he wanted “joint custody” of MamaDog because he is, after all, her daddy. Fine. Joint custody.

Apparently Murray doesn’t know what joint custody means.

First he said no, just MamaDog because, and I quote, “I don’t know [BabyDog].”

Hear that sound? It’s the sound of me banging my head against the wall.

Fine. My parents will keep BabyDog, and Murray can keep MamaDog. Well, the plan was for my mom to go pick up BabyDog after I left because she got off  work early that day, and she didn’t want to just leave MamaDog by herself, so she took both of them to her house so Murray could come pick up MamaDog from there.

Can you guess who did NOT come pick up MamaDog?

Can you also guess where MamaDog and BabyDog stayed the whole weekend?

I’ll give you a hint. It wasn’t at Murray’s apartment.

I called Murray the day after I had gotten to the beach to check and see if he had picked up MamaDog.

“When I got there your mom had already picked her up. Also, it was [random friend]’s birthday that night, so . . .”

(This is officially the point where Murray Lazy Dumb Fucker Worthless Piece of Shit moves to the very top of my shit list, with many red exclamation points and with his name underlined six times.)

So I am pretty pissed to hear this. This is on Friday. I asked him if he would pick her up after work. Do you know what lame ass excuse that piece of shit had for me?

“Well, I’m going to be pretty busy packing for my canoe trip, so . . .”

FUCK.

YOU.

ASSHOLE.

Joint custody my ass. He’ll be lucky if he ever gets to see MamaDog again. I’m going to ask him for MY key back, and if he doesn’t give it back, I am changing the locks.

What kind of lame ass excuse is that? Packing? Yeah, MamaDog is about the least high-maintenance dog there is. I had to pack for a four day vacation, and you don’t see me abandoning my dogs. It’s not like she’s going to ask a million questions or anything. She just sits there, wagging her tail.

ASSFACE.

I seriously do not understand men.

I’m outta here, y’all

I get off work in 45 minutes.

I am leaving for the beach tomorrow a.m.

WOO

FUCKING

HOO!!!!!!!!!!

Lisa and I scored a really cheap place ($50 bucks a night and two blocks from the beach? Get. Out.) from a friend’s mom. Which means more money for things like BEER! And FOOD! And a small souvenir for Claire since she bought me one on her last beach trip.

I got a call from BrownEyes today, and he wants me to give him a call when we’re on the way. Yay! Maybe we’ll get to hang out a bit while we’re down there. I just hope that, upon meeting Lisa, he doesn’t like her more than me because Lisa is a HOTTIE. And she is like, NICER than me, and pretty much just superior to me in every way.

I am not actually worried about this happening. I just kinda wanted to brag on Lisa a bit since I don’t really mention too much about her on here other than her (fake) name.

Try not to miss me too much! Hopefully I can get my Google Reader below 50 before I leave so I won’t have a mountain of blogs posts to read upon my return.

Love y’all! xoxo

A horizontal life, in more ways than one

Recently, I said that I had made a choice in the way I would approach my new single life:

I’m going to be a strong woman and I’m not going to let a man dictate my happiness.

So far, so good! I haven’t cried since the whole Adam situation, which I’m pretty sure I am over. If he wants space, I’ll give him space. I don’t NEED him in my life. I did just fine the other 24 years without him.

Ed. note: I did not get into a lot of what our problems were on this blog. I did not cry over his passive-aggressive text messages, which is what I mentioned in the previously linked entry. I cried over his yo-yo attitude and the fact that I needed his approval (for whatever reason), and was not getting it. Plus, sometimes he acted like a gigantic turd.

I got back on my anti-depressants, because they just make me feel, satisfied. You know? I don’t feel chemically neutered when I take them. I don’t have the urge to drown my sorrows with copious amounts of beer or a vat of ice cream or the occasional tequila shot or twelve. Things that normally would seem HUGE to me, don’t matter. They just, don’t.

And then I can really be me. Not my problems.

I don’t like being my problems.

But getting back to my philosophy, not letting a man dictate my happiness could most likely mean not dating anyone for a while, or at least not getting into a relationship with anyone. I’m definitely not going to jump into a relationship again so soon after the breakup. I’ve learned my lesson on that one.

HOWEVER. I did go on a date Saturday night. Please try to contain your excitement.

It was with an older guy, but not too old (thirty to be exact), and holy crap he is freaking gorgeous. Let’s call him BrownEyes for now, because he has these amazing light brown eyes.

-BACK STORY-

At an engagement party a couple years ago for my friend’s brother (let’s call him FB for short), BrownEyes asked FB, “Who is your sister’s friend? She is cute!”

FB said, “DON’T YOU EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT IT. You are not dating any of my sister’s friends. She has a boyfriend anyway. NO.”

Which made me laugh (BrownEyes told me this story over dinner). So I was right. I’d always felt a little flirtation from BrownEyes when we happened to talk to each other at social gatherings, so his story confirmed that. He would have pursued me if it hadn’t been for Murray.

Murray. That fucker.

-END BACK STORY-

So anyhoodle. We saw each other out on Friday night, exchanged numbers, and then BAM. We were on a date the next night. He’s a phone call guy. Not a texter. I like that about him. We ended up staying at the restaurant for almost two hours, just talking, then went out to a bar for another two hours.

Six beers later (APIECE), we could hardly keep our clothes on when we got back to my house. Slutty, I know. You don’t have to tell me. What can I say, I like-a the sex-a. BrownEyes? He likes the dirty talk. I could never repeat some of the things he said. I mean, I guess they weren’t THAT bad. He didn’t say he wanted to, like, kill my Mom then castrate a kitten or anything like that.

It was really good. Not as good as Adam, but it was still really good. (Side note: Damn you, Adam, for ruining sex for me. Thanks. A. Lot.)

So he spent the night, and we woke up the next morning, watched Dude Where’s My Car (I know, classic cinema), and I took him back to his car. So a good time was had by all, which is what my intentions were. Because BrownEyes? He lives two and a half hours away from me. And he is going home either today or tomorrow. I am not sure if I will see him before he leaves. We kinda left things open like that due to the long-distance thing. I wanted someone to have some short-term fun with, and I did.

I am going to the beach later this week (WOOOFUCKINGOOOOOOT) for vacation, and he will be down there too, a little bit down the road from where Lisa and I are staying, so we may try to meet up. If not, I will continue with the rest of my life, and probably won’t see him for months.

AND THAT WILL BE OKAY.

—–

Also, got a completely random Facebook chat sesh with one of Murray’s friends. The sneaky bastard. He chatted me up for a bit, then I got this little nugget of a (joke — I HOPE) proposition:

Let’s get nekkid and start a revolution!

Well.

So yeah.

How does one reply to that?

He also messaged me again last night, telling me he was sick and to make him some dinner.

I forsee myself clicking the “Go Offline” option frequently in my future.

A Hot Tranny Mess

Everyone’s favorite guilty pleasure is back . . . Season 5 of Project Runway premiered last night. One of the only reality shows where you can rest assured that NOBODY will be hooking up, because they all either have vaginas or are gay men. Except for that one guy, but we won’t count him.

Why is spell check telling me that “vaginas” is not a word? IT IS POSSIBLE TO HAVE MORE THAN ONE VAGINA. Wait, is it? No, no. I mean more than one vagina can be present in the room at any given moment. As a matter of fact there are TWO vaginas in my general office vicinity. Usually, there are THREE vaginas. See how I did that? VAGINA VAGINA VAGINA.

Anyway.

Sorry about that.

The first episode is always overstimulation for me, because I learn very little about each designer. So I will keep it brief and just give my highlights.

OK, first of all: These shorts?

These shorts are just not okay with me. At all. No man should be allowed to wear shorts that short. I don’t care HOW gay you are.

Also, this?

Picture stolen from Project Rungay

is my new cell phone background. Because every time I open my phone, I laugh. Like that uncontrollable laughter that almost always results in a snort.

(Can I also mention before I get to the dresses, that while I like Heidi Klum and all, I absolutely HATE her voice. It annoys me to the very core. I’d rather just look at her pretty face and not have to hear her talk. Kthx.)

ON WITH THE DRESSES.

I am a bit ashamed to admit that I am kind of in love with this dress. Sure, it’s HUGE. And made out of a tablecloth. But it’s YELLOW! I just love what Korto did with the kale and cherry tomatoes. It really gave the dress something extra it had been missing before. Although, in theory, it kind of seems like an afterthought, like it was something tacked-on last minute. It doesn’t really go with the tablecloth idea.

Whoever said this looks like something an axe murderer would wear, was TOTALLY RIGHT. Look, even the MODEL is scared of her ensemble. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, JERRY? YOU DESERVED TO GO HOME YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT. OK, maybe that was a little harsh. But that was a bad, bad thing you done did. Shame on you. She looks like she’s about to swab me with alcohol and tell me, “you’ll feel soem slight pain at the site of the injection, but your syphillis should be gone in three to five weeks!”

While I will agree with Project Rungay and say that I LOATHE the top of this dress (it looks exactly like what it is–two coffee filters stuck to her ta-tas), I do love the bottom. It’s GORGEOUS. Kelli has a lot of creativity, and although I kind of hate her style, I think she’ll be a tough competitor because of her resourcefulness.

And finally, Blayne’s little piece I like to affectionately call the Trilobite Merkin.

Because that’s EXACTLY what it looks like to me.

Who did you love/loathe?

Constantly injuring myself

So this weekend was pretty painful. PHYSICALLY PAINFUL. First of all, as I was leaving the house on Friday night with Claire to see Scott’s band play at an out-of-town bar (incidentally, Cindy ended up meeting us there, but we’ll get to that later), I realized I had left my cigarettes (shutup) inside. I ran back inside to grab them, underestimating the slipperiness of my rain-soaked flip flops. My left foot promptly slid out from under me, and I slammed my left hand into the wall upon my descent.

It. Hurt.

A lot.

I was on the verge of tears but I held it together and ignored the pain. My left ring finger swelled up like a balloon for a couple of days and turned a disgusting shade of green, but it looks a lot better today. Thank God I wasn’t wearing an engagement ring or anything (one would actually have to have, you know, a MAN to have one of those, but I digress . . .) because that would have SUPER hurt.

Anyhoodle.

So Claire and I probably drank a little too much before we got to the bar. When CiCi met us up there, we were already pretty well lit. Then when CiCi got there, we promptly took 385275283 shots. And I died. No, not really. But I DID wake up the next morning in my bed, wondering how the HELL I got home.

(BTW CiCi is the shit and she sent me a really awesome CD which is now in my car on repeat. THANK YOU!!! And McD is really nice, and they are both even cuter in person!!)

So anyway. Where was I? Oh yeah. I woke up confused. I wanted answers. I texted CiCi and called Claire. Got no answer, so I went back to sleep for a couple hours. When I woke up again, I noticed a NASTY bruise on my thigh. I still am not sure if I actually fell in the bar (HOW EMBARRASSING WOULD THAT BE???) or if I just fell out of my bed in the middle of the night.

Wanna see the bruise?

Sure you do!

Yeah.

So there’s that.

There are also bruises on my knees, but I’ll spare you photographs of those.

So needless to say I was in rare form Friday night. I’m quite embarrassed that I can’t remember a good portion of my night. Claire told me that I went to sleep in the back seat of my car and Scott drove us home. If the bruise is not from falling down in the bar (WHICH IT VERY WOULD COULD BE), then it is from my jacked up self crawling out of bed in the middle of the night to put on a T-shirt. Because I woke up in a T-shirt, and Scott did NOT undress me. But he did carry me inside like a baby and put me to bed.

Another thing about my crazy Friday night? When I was doing laundry yesterday I picked up the shirt I wore on that fateful night. Something pricked my finger.

One of these was attached to my shirt.

Because I am a Classy Lady who carries fishing poles in the back of her SUV.

Remember, we’re all in this alone*

At times when I’m feeling particularly lonely, in lieu of my iPod or a CD, I will listen to the radio. The reason for this is kind of idiosyncratic. I do this because if I choose something to listen to on my iPod, I don’t feel “connected” to anyone, anywhere. If I turn on the radio, I know that a multitude of people are listening to that very song at that very same time. And it makes me feel less alone.

Weird, huh?

This reminds me of a fantasy (well, it’s not really a fantasy. A fantasy would involve cheesecake, Keith Urban, and many, many spankings) I have every once in a blue moon. I imagine myself driving along, minding my own business, and stopping at a red light. All of a sudden, a great song I have not heard in years comes on the radio. I crank the speakers and begin singing and bopping along. I look to my right, and the person in the car next to me is listening to the same radio station, doing the exact same thing as I am. We each notice what the other is doing, and laugh and wave

This person may or may not be my future husband.

And he may or may not look like Clive Owen.

But I digress.

Also when I’m feeling lonely, I will opt for the city route to and from work rather than the back roads, just so I can feel more CONNECTED. To actual PEOPLE. Wow, this is making me sound really desperate.

I don’t know where all this loneliness crap is coming from. Usually, I am a very independent person. This newfound loneliness? I do not like it. I wish for it to go away.

—–

On an unrelated note, Aunt Flo came through town this week. HALLELUJAH. I was seriously worried there for a couple weeks. Adam and I had been having “relations” almost every day, and we had a little prophylactic mishap that had us extremely worried. So yay for that.

—–

On yet another unrelated note, this is making me giggle this morning.

Happy Friday, everyone! Have a wonderful weekend!

*Quote from Lily Tomlin

A vicious cycle

Since Adam left, I’ve been finding pretty good ways to occupy my time. Funnily enough, I’ve been hanging with his sister, Lisa. I’ve been friends with Lisa for longer than I’ve known Adam, so it’s not a strange thing that we’ve been hanging out. She is very much like me in that she gets lonely, and in the past few weeks all three of us had been together a lot due to Adam’s impending five week long vacation. So now Lisa and I are keeping each other company in Adam’s absence.

Yesterday, Lisa and I went to see Wall-E (so cute!) and to eat at Red Lobster. As we were leaving the theater, her phone began to vibrate, and she almost didn’t answer the “Restricted” call. But she answered it anyway.

It was Adam.

I knew it the minute I heard her enthusiastic “HEYYY!!!” I got that feeling I now remember feeling a lot in the past when I was single and there was a new guy in the picture. I got hot all over. My heart started beating really fast. When I have feelings for someone, I tend to feel them HARD. In MY WHOLE BODY.

I got to talk to him for about 2.5 seconds after he finished talking to Lisa because his phone card was running out, and I honestly was at a loss for words. I could only think of the basics, “Are you having fun? Staying out of trouble?” because I was unprepared for the call. I was so nervous to talk to him after almost a week with no contact.

Why does this person—this person who has hurt me and at the same time made me feel the most exciting and pleasurable of emotions—get to me like this? He is JUST A GUY. And he’s not all that great (OK I am lying to myself a little bit here. When he is good, he is REALLY GOOD. When he’s bad, well, let’s not talk about that.) I am usually so balanced, but I am letting his hot and cold nature influence me. I am either cursing his name and breaking his DVD that he left at my house (whoops) or waiting by the phone for the next sign of contact from him. Then hating him for NOT contacting me. Vicious. Cycle. It’s things like this that make me have sympathy for my friend Claire, who is going through something similar with a guy.

A little background info: Claire began dating Scott about four or five years ago. Murray and I loved when they were together; they were such a fun couple. Scott instantly loved us when we met him, and vice versa. After a couple years, though, Claire and Scott began to drift apart. She says she had tried multiple times to tell him how she was feeling about their whole situation, to no avail. He just would not listen to her when she explained her needs and how they were not getting met. In the midst of Claire’s vulnerability, an ex of hers convinced her to cheat on Scott with him. Claire has this issue with sex where she equates sex with love, and I’m sure at the time sleeping with her ex felt good. She suffered with the guilt for a few days until she finally broke down and told Scott what she did. Scott, needless to say, was furious. He refused to speak with her ever again, and that was the end of that relationship.

Claire went through a rough bout of depression and drinking. She would come over to my house constantly to complain about how Scott was never going to forgive her, and that he was going to hold her mistake over her head for the rest of her life. I always gave her the same piece of advice: “What you did was wrong, but you are going to have to forgive yourself for it and move on. Leave Scott alone. He will never let you forget it, and you’ll always be under his thumb if he ever does decide to take you back.”

She would never listen.

One night after a few beers at my house, Claire left to go to a bar within walking distance to her house. I figured she was safe for the night . . . even if she got drunk, she could just walk less than a quarter of a mile home.

Wrong.

That night, after leaving the bar, Claire drove to Scott’s house. Only she didn’t make it there.

She flipped her vehicle, severely injuring herself and was nearly killed. When I went to visit her at the hospital, she had a huge white bandage around her head covering up her exposed scalp. Luckily, there was no brain damage. Just severe emotional trauma, extreme physical pain, impending doom of a pending DUI charge, and a few wicked scars that would be painful reminders in the future.

Scott didn’t come visit Claire in the hospital. He just told her how stupid she was for driving drunk.

What a guy.

Fast forward to today. Claire and Scott still speak almost daily. He invites her over to his house so they can hang out for a little while and then have sex. He never takes her out. Never wants his friends to see him with her. Yet she waits by the phone for him to text her and runs like a little puppy dog when he does.

So, last night Claire met Lisa and me at Red Lobster for dinner. Afterward, the plan was to come to my house. When I got back home, I got a text from Claire saying, “I think I’m just gonna go home. Gotta get up early tonight.”

This was at 9pm. She had to be at school at 8:15am (15 minutes later than I had to be at work). Clearly, she had plans to go to Scott’s house (editor’s note: why lie?). Well, twenty minutes later, guess who walks through the door?

Claire.

“Change your mind?” I said.

“Yeah. Scott just lied to me. He said they had an early practice (Scott is a drummer for a band. This is part of the reason Claire is so crazy in love with him –  she loves rock stars), but I SAW his car at [name of the bar literally RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET from Claire's apartment].”

WHAT. THE. FUCK. How dumb can you be, to tell the girl who is hopelessly in love with you that you have “an early practice,” only to instead go to a bar with your friends that is literally A HUNDRED YARDS and in PLAIN VIEW of said girl’s apartment?

Anyway, I know this is a long post, but I’m getting to the end here. So Lisa, Claire and I all talked about Scott and his asshattery for a little while, and then Claire left. She said she was “going home,” but I saw her texting Scott, and I KNOW that’s where she was going (again, why lie?).

Why do we let these men do this to us?

My new philosophy is to stop caring so much and quit acting like everything is the end of the damned world. Because these bad things that happen to us? They never are that bad. They just seem bad at the time. I’m going to be a strong woman and I’m not going to let a man dictate my happiness. I just wish Claire could share the same philosophy.

Seriously?

OK, it’s one thing for it to cost upwards of $60 to fill my gas tank. It hurts my wallet, but I pretty much only drive back and forth to work, so it’s not that bad.

But this?

I just can’t handle.

New blog, same crappy problems!

Names have been changed from the previous blog. Please see cast for updates.

I am really trying to ignore the fact that I only have $6.98 in my checking account right now, and I just got paid on Monday. Not having anyone to split the bills with sucks. Especially when you get hit with an electric bill that was TWICE the amount it was last month. How the hell did that happen? I keep the thermostat on 78. SEVENTY. EIGHT. When Murray was around, he kept that shit on 73. How could it possibly DOUBLE in one month?  Also, I’ve been doing HALF the amount of laundry as usual because it’s just MY clothes. WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I guess it goes without saying, I really need that stimulus check. PRONTO. It was supposed to be mailed out by June 20th, and it still hasn’t gotten here. I suppose I should be lucky to be getting anything at all, but seriously, IRS? Fuck you.

Anyone want to purchase, like, EVERYTHING I OWN?

Also, Adam leaves today for his five week long trip. I am going to miss the shit out of him. I just wish he wasn’t so damned strange. He has been sending me all sorts of mixed signals. I’m actually pretty tired of it. I’m to the point where I don’t even want to know if I am going to contact him when he gets back. I think I’m just going to let him contact me. If he doesn’t, well I’ll be hurt like hell, but then there will be my answer of what he really feels.

Here’s an example of his passive-aggressiveness:

Yesterday I got a text from him . . . one of those blank ones that just says [Page]. Those messages can mean one of two things (I think La may have mentioned the blank text in one of her recent entries):

1. He is paging me to call him (not likely), or
2. He was thinking of texting me, decided not to, and sent a blank message instead by accident.

I am thinking it was number two. Either way, his fingers were poised over his keypad with my number in plain view, contemplating getting in touch with me.

So I texted back, “What’s up?”

He texted, “What’s up?” (This is him being a smartass. Not one of his most attractive qualities).

Me: “Not much . . . just got a blank text from you. Did you want something?”

Him: “No.”

Again. WHAT. THE. FUCK. He does this crap all the time. He will text me, I will reply, and then he will act like I am this clingy man trap who will not leave him the eff alone. YOU MESSAGED ME FIRST, ASSHAT. These games have got to stop.

I guess I still put up with him because he’s fun and cute and great in bed. That, and the fact that I am incredibly lonely. In the first couple of weeks I started hanging out with Adam, he was a good way for me to forget about my failed relationship with Murray for a little while. We just enjoyed being around each other. Somewhere along the way, though, he got the wrong impression of me. Apparently, he thinks I want to be his wife and have his babies or something. That is most DEFINITELY not the case. This is all just so frustrating and confusing. I am very vulnerable right now because of the breakup and all, and I do not need someone fucking with my emotions. I have let this boy get to me in ways that I never should have. I am fairly certain it would have been different had I not just gotten out of a long-term relationship. It makes me that much more susceptible to being hurt.

On top of Adam being either REALLY HAPPY TO SEE ME or either OMG WOMAN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, then leaving for over a month, Claire is also going to be out of town this weekend. She has been my rock through this. When I boo-hooed last week over the shit storm my life has become in the past couple of months, she was there to light my next cigarette and write sweet little notes to put up on my wall. This weekend, she is going to be gone to the beach with her family.

Luckily, I will have a few distractions this weekend in the form of a 4th of July party and a friend’s surprise 30th birthday party. I really hope I can overcome this funk I’ve been in as of late. I know it’s my own fault. I’ve done this all to myself. But can’t it just hurt a little less?