Thursday, January 29, 2004

i wanna get this over with.

it occurs to me that i never really went into great detail about what in hell happened to make me so bitter. yeah, a dude broke up with me. big deal. happens all the time. and i suppose i could create a million different justifications for myself and anyone else williing to listen, as to why im hurting more and my ass is way more chafed. I like to think that's true. i like to think that im entitled to my vitriol, and acid, and all the other nasties i brood over because im special and i got way more fucked over than the average jane. but this is not so. and i know it's not so, even if it feels like someone killed my puppy. knowing and feeling are entirely different birds, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I don't want to be a fucking robot, or a goddamn logic-less raw nerve. I like my brain cooked to a happy medium temperature, muchas gracias.

there are some things worth mentioning for the sake of the story, as it were. we met at work. i didn't like him at first. it took him a lot of poking and prodding to win me over, as well as find my happy spot. but then i got comfortable. i maybe even loved him. and this is where the average american male wigs the fuck out and remembers that he wanted to 'spread his seed' for at least 2.7 more years. so i got the 'we should be friends' bull-shit. yeah. what-the-fuck ever. i was understandably bummed. my little predisposition for depression didn't help much either. but i got things under control. my emotions weren't surging up and down like a menopausal woman pregnant with sextuplets. i even managed to graduate in four years while having a job and playing a varsity sport. i discovered the inherent beauty of psycho-pharmaceuticals. and then the shit-pig came crawling back.

I, the dumb woman i am, let him in.

many miles, tearful confessions, marriage proposals, love letters, hate letters, and sleepless nights later, he again broke up with me. citing the fact that 'he [didn't] feel it anymore'. i'm sure 'it' was supposed to be 'love'. but all i could think of while giving him the death stare before exiting, was that i could make him fucking feel it. oh yes, i surely could.

by giving him a doc marten enema.

i was wearing shit-kickers the night in question, so, i totally could've done it. but i left with my dignity intact and my balls deflated. thusly, the auspicious beginning of round three in this 'relationship' set the tone, mood, and ambiance for the eventual suck-fest of the last several months. lather, rinse, repeat.

i don't feel like i need to write about the recent shortcomings of the ex. because the third verse is same as the first, a whole lot louder and whole lot worse... Etc. sure i'll enjoy besmirching his name in the future. I will take pleasure in recounting the idiotic shit he did, when and if it pops into my head. for now though, this is about as far into the past as i dare venture. i have a habit of getting stuck in places that are plentiful in the way of booze and cigarettes when im pensive. but i also have a way of getting stuck in such places when im deliriously happy and frolicking in fields of daisies and kittens and soft fleece materials. so i guess i don't really have a point.


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