Toaster Meets Water

[missgotthis-blog]

Day 5

I’m trying to do nice things for myself, perhaps attempting to buy my own love, so I schedule a facial. Can’t hurt to also up my chances of bagging a new beaux or winning back my old one (it should be obvious which option this dumbass would prefer). Drinks with friends follows (this is now my 5th day of drinking, BTW) and I’m having an okay time. Then X wants to text me about two nights ago (which will from now on be referred to as Psycho Saturday) because he has decided that now, RIGHT NOW, I need to know exactly how he feels about it. He also accuses me of seeing a guy friend who he asked me not to hang out with when we were together and threatens to come to the bar where I’m at to see if he is there with me (he wasn’t). I allow him to vent and attempt to keep my cool, but inside I am sort of like “who the fuck do you think you are coming at me like this?” He continues to send me angry texts all night, until I get one that peeks my interest (because as discussed earlier, I’m a dumbass). He says he’s been drinking and asks do I want to get together later. Of course I accept what I think is an invitation for cuddles and closeness and *maybe* me winning back his heart through physical love. So I leave my friends to head home (I had left my ID and debit card at another bar so I couldn’t hang with them anymore anyway) and await further instructions from X about this dream opportunity to reconcile. What I receive around 12:30 is the harsh realization that I have been punked. When I reach out to him to see if the invitation is still good, he proceeds to lay into me for actually believing that he wanted to hang out all while laughing at his own sick joke. Instead of prolonging the conversation and giving him more satisfaction in humiliating me, I stop texting him and let it go. He sends me a couple more texts later on in the night apologizing for being a jerk, but this to me is a turning point. He showed his ass so fully that I can feel myself starting to peel away the veil of bullshit I have refused to look past and see who he really is. 

[missgotthis-blog]

Day 4

The picture I posted to Instagram for this day was of me swigging from a bottle of wine. There’s a potentially serious pattern growing here...but anyway, after spending the entire day obsessively checking my phone for any communication from X (which didn't manifest past me asking if my necklace was still at his place), I went out with friends for drinks and distraction. All is well, I’m sad but dealing with it relatively well, and then the alcohol hits me and my newly-single ass decides that I’m the hottest new commodity to hit this city. I’m flirting, I’m dancing, I’m doing karaoke for the first time in my fucking life (Vanessa Carlton -  1,000 Miles). I’m having the time of my life with the people who matter most to me, and then what do I do?? Oh you know damn well what I did...I send the text, THEE text that takes me from Queen of the Night to Courtyard Jester. Me: “Do you want to cuddle tonight? I’m not obnoxiously drunk”, to which X replies simply but profoundly  “No”. But you know what? I handled it like a G, said “ok then, goodnight” and left it at that. I patted myself on the back for showing self-control for once, and rewarded myself with pizza. Was I dying on the inside at the rejection? Abo-fucking-lutely. But tonight I decided that he didn’t need to know it. 

[missgotthis-blog]

Day 3

I get brunch with my BFF and another friend who was in town for a few days. I tell them about my night, and they throw around well-intentioned yet cliche words of advice along the lines of  “you can do so much better” and “he’s no good for you, girl let him go”. I politely disregard their words of encouragement and ignore them like the last fried pickle left in the middle of the table, now soggy with age. Because right now I want him and only him, and I don’t care how flawed he is or how he has mistreated me in the past. I would give anything for my life and my relationship with him back, and the thought of that never happening leaves me entirely breathless. My actions the night before were so bad that I’m absolutely positive that he most likely WILL never speak to me again. The only good thing I can say about this day is that I didn’t make an ass of myself again by begging to see him. Although I did send him a lengthy text message apologizing (once more) for my psychotic behavior the night before. He responded with a four-word text which had me checking my phone like a 10-year-old with ADHD every few minutes, hoping for a little more from him that I knew would never come. 

[missgotthis-blog]

Day 2 (because fuck day 1)

Today there was a festival in my neighborhood that X was going to be working at. To me this meant “perfect opportunity to look hot and act like the world is your playground now that you’re single”. And I DID look hot, fun, and carefree, at least up until my 6th (maybe 7th or 8th?) drink when I transformed into every person’s worst ex-nightmare. All it took was a vague text from X that said “yea, we can get together later, I’ll call you when I’m done working” which lead me to believe that this was my chance to woo him back with my charming personality and attractive demeanor (which were COMPLETELY nonexistent by the time I read his text). Now I was obsessed with the idea of seeing him and began acting like a total psycho: I called (repeatedly, like 30 times), I sent texts that evolved from friendly to incredibly mean and angry when I didn’t get an immediate response, and I apparently stopped by his place of work and stood there, black-out drunk, for at least 5 minutes just staring at him. Yes friends, I was a hot fucking mess. Although I can’t remember anything of the night really, I am told (by X, later on when I’m sober and capable of being mortified by my own behavior) that I nearly flooded my bathroom by leaving the shower running (I passed out on my bed), screamed at him to “get the fuck out of here”, chased after him barefoot when he DID leave (still crying and screaming), and then eventually went back with him to his new apartment. Why he even entertained the idea of taking me to his new place is still beyond me, but we made it there nonetheless, had sex, and then passed out angrily and drunkenly like two strangers forced to share a bed in a hostile. I woke up the next morning full of shame and embarrassment. I tried to sneak away undetected, but X woke up and decided I needed to know about my behavior from the night before (obviously he was not happy with me at all). I apologized profusely, called a Lyft, and left his new apartment (which is beautiful, BTW) not sure if I’d ever see it or him again. Luckily one of my BFF’s was available for brunch and venting shortly after I arrived home. And although her night was quiet the opposite of mine, I was happy to learn that I wasn’t the only one who made poor choices the night before. 

[missgotthis-blog]

Let’s Get to Know Each Other

We met, we fell in love, we lived together for nearly 3 years, and then in January of this year he decided he had had enough of me. To be fair, he made this decision in November, but I wouldn’t allow any breaking-up to occur on my watch, not as long as crying and guilting him into staying worked. We continued to live together (painfully so) until June 9th when he finally started to move his things into his new apartment, an act which made me feel like my lungs were caving in on themselves. The “moving of the stuff” meant he no longer had ANY reason to come back to our apartment, and back to me, and I knew in my heart, deep down where I would never admit it to myself (although I think I just did), that he didn’t want to come back for me anyway. He was going to leave me behind like the bag of shit still sitting in my closet that he didn’t want to throw away but didn't think could be donated. I was old news, a burden, an annoying memory that pops up once in a while just to remind you of something you don’t want to do (like that doctor’s appointment you’ve been meaning to make but keep putting off). I am now something to move on from. And fuck does that suck. It’s been one week since he officially moved out, and boy have I made some terrible mistakes thus far. So please, join me as I work tirelessly to both piece some semblance of a life back together, while simultaneously destroying it, because breaking up surly is fucking hard to do.