If it feels like a date, and acts like a date...

ABORT MISSION! I lasted all of 23 hours on this non-smoking kick. Wow. Possibly a record low for me. I’m keeping the day counter as a constant reminder of my failure and hoping it spurs me on. Meh.

Last night I got beers with the boys. Brandon, who works for a government institution, was out after a work softball game with several of his colleagues, and I met up with them and another friend of mine, Benny and Benny’s roommate. Good times were had, cheap beer was imbibed and country tunes were belted.

Now, Benny is a really good friend of my brother Mark. He and I get to spend time together alone because Mark lives a really long way away, and Benny is cool kid. Brandon wants me to date Benny. I don’t think Benny is interested, and I’m not sure I am either. But he is cute. Really cute. And really nice… so it bears reconsideration…We’ll reevaluate after this weekend’s KY Derby party when all will be in drunken attendance.

And finally – I have plans to meet up with a girl friend from my teenage years that I haven’t seen in, oh, 12 years? FB, natch. Am I total freak for being nervous and feeling like this is a date? I have to make small talk! And seem interesting and fun! And like I have accomplished something in the last decade! Argh. I know it is not actually a date. It is a girl, for goodness sakes! But it still makes me nervous. Did I mention I’m shy? Good practice, I suppose, for if and when a boy ever asks me out.

Maybe she knows some nice folks, and who couldn’t use more friends?

Lib’s Sad Corner of Saddy-Sad-Sadness

(I’m instituting a new feature (because its my blog, and no one reads it, and I can do what I want). In an effort to limit my post-break-up blahness, I will confine my depressive girly musings to an addendum at the end of posts. That way, you can skip it if you don’t like your morning coffee with a dose of melancholy.)

How do you let go? Now, I realize this is neither a new nor a profound question, but I’m being real. How do you look at three-plus years with someone and just say "nope. no more. i’m done with you. have a nice life – but don’t tell me about, k? thanks."? Every logical and rational part of me knows (1) it can be done and (2) it should be done. But there is still that nagging pain that wonders, how? Now, the actual how is easy (obvs) – I just don’t contact him. Ever. But it’s difficult coming to terms with the fact that I likely will not speak to Tom again. If I am honest with myself, I don’t want to be his friend. That was never our relationship. I have no interest in being there for him through next relationships, and after his heinousness, I don’t think that will change. So it's really, really done. But how do you move on?

Necessary Evil?

The weekend yielded nothing exciting. I spent the whole time working, unfortunately. I did manage to get out for drinks with friends late in the evening Saturday. But for the most part, blah.

On Friday night, however, shortly after arriving home from work around 1:00 a.m., I received the following email from Tom:

i guess you were right all along. i am in fact much happier when you're not a part of my life. it's to bad we couldn't stay friends. you'd really like this new girl i'm seeing.

Excuse me? Mind you, Tom and I haven’t spoken in over 2 weeks.

Now, I’m not delusional. Tom and I have both said hurtful things in the course of heated arguments. But a sucker punch? I hadn’t thought he was the intentionally malicious type. But I had to face it- my ex boyfriend is mean.

It took everything I had not to write back. A thousand responses were running through my head:

"wow! You know how I love being right! So happy for you!"

"oooh- I’d love to meet her. I’m sure she’d be so flattered that you felt the need to tell me about her. At 1:30. on a Friday. Can I get her number?"

"does she know you’re an asshole? "

"it’s "too", Tom, not "to." I knew there was a reason we broke up."

"if you think this is the way back into my heart- spite and jealousy –
boy are you right! Want to come over and make out?"

But mostly, I just wanted to send a big fuck you. Fuck you, and the time I’ve spent honestly evaluating my mistakes in this relationship. Fuck you for spitting on three and half years of what I assumed was a caring partnership. And fuck you for thinking your petty cruelties can shake me. I am better than this.

In the end, though, I didn’t respond. Lib – 1, Tom – 0.

In happier news, I’ve quit smoking (again)! The previous ex, Jimmy, made me a little day counter code to keep track (its over there ←). Thanks, Jimmy (who isn’t reading this, btw).