Posts Tagged ‘broken hearts

I went to a big two-day concert in the park here this weekend — side note: I realized I’m too old for this – I hate porta potties and I hate entitled little shits whose parents clearly paid for their tickets but act like they own the world. Luckily the shows were good and the drinks were strong. I would go back, but only as VIP.¬† ūüėČ

Anyway – back to the magic ring. On the first day, we had just gotten there and were about to go up the hill to grab some drinks and food, and all of a sudden I feel someone kind of grab me, but keep moving. I thought it was a friend of mine just goofing around.

Turns out, IT WAS SEIZES!!!!!¬† I ran into SEIZES!!! AND. HE. IS. GETTING. MARRIED.¬† To the girl he cheated on – and yeah, he cheated with me (and probably others – I don’t think I’m that special in that regard).

We talked a bit and they’re getting married in spring of next year, and I asked him flat out if he still cheats on her, and with a wink and a nudge, he said, “NO! Of course not! I’m offended you asked!”¬†¬† Uh, right…..

He finally got a job as well (the economy really demolished his industry for a few years), and his offices are just down the road from me – so we’re supposed to meet up for happy hour at some point. We’ll see what happens.

So then, the second night – after long lines for the porta potties, after little bitches cut said line by flirting their way to the front, after the rain and mud and cold temps – my friend and I made our way to the back of the hill, near the exit (strategically positioned so we could leave fast) and waited for RHCP to come on…

As we’re standing near the beer bucket, I notice this guy come to buy beers – and I realize I know him. I haven’t seen him in years, and I was just thinking about him a few days ago. He’s German, super cute, and we used to hang out/date for a bit.

But, there was just never any chemistry. I (surprisingly) never even had sex with him, EVEN THOUGH¬† we were caught in a tornado together (Yup – went downtown for this outside photography exhibit, and for the first time in the city’s history, a fucking tornado ripped through downtown. We had to haul ass, ran into a hotel lobby and I looked pretty much like a tree threw up on me. I had twigs and leaves IN my hair.)

I also met him for a weekend in Amsterdam** AND STILL NO SEX. I mean, let’s face it, there was just nothing between us, which sucks because he is sweet and nice and cute and awesome and I’m probably an idiot for not forcing it a bit more and trying harder from my side.

But none of that matters now, because as he told me, after giving me a big hug and making small talk, he and his beautiful black girlfriend (who was not very nice to us, at all) are moving to Germany together.

Fuck my life, you guys. This damn ring isn’t bring me new boys. It’s just showing me what I could’ve had and how I’m still alone and they’ve all moved on.

**AND, that stop in Amsterdam was on a layover back to the States, from Africa. It was on that flight, from Nairobi to Amsterdam, that I met British. I swear to fucking god if  this ring brings British to me, I will kick him in the balls and break his nose.  And cry, a lot.













And surprisingly, by “Shitter,” I’m actually not referring to myself.

So to back this story up: A long while back, I was dicking around with this guy. We didn’t really “date,” per se, as much as hook up when possible. He was fun, but that was about it. We had been away together, and we ordered a bottle of wine via room service and he ever so elegantly LET THE ROOM SERVICE GUY INTO THE ROOM. TO POUR THE WINE. WHILE I LAY THERE NAKED. UNDER A SHEET. ¬† AND THEN ARGUED WITH ME ABOUT HOW MUCH TO TIP HIM: “But all I have is a $20!”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I’m naked and under white sheets that have been laundered a 1000 times. Can you please just give him something and get him OUT?

Anyway,¬† because I never learn my lesson the easy way, we were at my place a few weeks after that. I’d been drinking (stop the presses) and he asked me flat out about marriage and the pressure my parents were putting on me. This topic is sensitive to start with, so TO NO ONE’S SURPRISE… I teared up. Which didn’t seem to bother him out at that moment. And we also talked about how he figured he would just be single forever and how he was fine with that (we both knew that we weren’t going to be “the one” for each other).

But …. fast forward about 2 hours later, we’re in bed and he can’t get it up.


That was why he was freaked out and THAT is why he couldn’t perform.

Um… fuck. you.¬† I just looked at him in the darkness and was like, “Wait, whaaaaaaaaa? Are you being for real that a few tears hours ago are stopping you right now?”

And he totally insisted that yes, because I cried he couldn’t do it.

Even though I was naked, willing and ready.¬† And he was old as dirt and that was the REAL reason he couldn’t get it up. {Ok… he wasn’t ancient but he did forget his reading glasses at dinner one time and I had to read him the menu. Yeah… tell me what those waiters were thinking…}

He slept over for a bit until we both decided that he should leave.

But… he left me a present. Apparently his upset tummy earlier that night resulted in SKID MARKS. ON MY SHEETS. WHICH I FOUND LATER. WHEN I WAS GOING TO WASH THEM.


Anger does not begin to explain how I felt then. And now, now that I’m thinking about it again.

In any case, I recently found out that he just got engaged …. Awesome. This guy with a barely functioning penis and blame issues is marrying someone half his age.

But you know what, good for him. And, honestly, I don’t wish it was me.

But damn if it doesn’t bring up SO many feelings of sadness and resentment and concerns about why I’m NEVER the one who’s proposed to… I mean, sure, I didn’t (and don’t) want him but it’d be nice if just one fucking time it was MY decision to say “no, thanks.”¬† My decision to stop dating someone. My decision to break someone’s heart.

Because I’m so tired of it always being me who gets shit on (or at least, my bed). I’m tired of wondering why I’m never good enough. I’m tired of wondering why boys get so bored with me they can’t even bother to call back. I’m tired of wondering why there are so many things wrong with me that nobody wants me.

But also, I’m really tired of it being so easy for guys.

When they decide they’re ready, it’s just a matter of months until a willing girl falls into their web of promises for a lifetime together.

When a girl’s ready, she’s just … desperate.

So last week, I’d gone in for training sessions two days in a row, and both days my trainer had been in a bad mood. It didn’t affect my workout but I could tell something was wrong.

I didn’t really think anything of it, figured it was just work stuff but then he started talking about it…

Turns out his fiance (who is 23 and too young to be getting married) basically is FREAKING OUT and told him that although she wants to get married, she doesn’t know if she can do it on the date they’ve set. Which is 3 months out from now.

Um, what the fuck. The reason is she’s so busy with school and trying to get into med school (or whatever the hell she’s doing) and so she’s stressed. So… when they planned the date, did she not realize what was going to be happening at the same time?¬† Like every time they put a deposit down on something, did she not think, “Wow, that’s right around finals” or whatever the issue is. (And here’s what I really don’t understand – school will be done in a month or so, so why is she freaking out about 3 months from now??)

THEN! He goes on to tell me that she’s been engaged before. When she was 18!!! To this guy that beat her!!!

AND!!! HE’S BEEN ENGAGED BEFORE!!!!! And he came home 2 days early from a work trip and found his fiance in bed with another guy.


Jesus. I don’t think they should be getting married. But I didn’t say that – I just told him about my brother and his wife, and how when things get hard she shuts down, and I pointed out that maybe that’s not a characteristic you should want in a life partner, and he was like, “Yeah, that’s what my girl does too.”¬†¬† Awesome. Good luck with that.

So basically, he’s always worried she’s cheating, and she totally doesn’t communicate because she’s afraid of whatever, and WHY ARE THEY GETTING MARRIED.

I just told him to leave her alone for now, let her de-stress and figure things out. It may not be the answer he wants at the end, but what ever happens will happen and he can’t control all of that. He agreed.

I feel horrible for him. I can’t imagine being engaged and all of a sudden the other person being like, “Yeah, just kidding. I mean, I still want to marry you, just not now because of these bullshit reasons I made up…”

SO THEN!! Today I just asked “How are things” because I didn’t want to ignore that we’d discussed this all last week but I didn’t really want to bring it up either in case things went super south and he said she’d just called him and yelled at him because she failed a test and blamed it on him and the stress they’re having. WOW. So… perhaps this girl isn’t mature enough to handle marriage? Just a thought.

He goes on to say, “I’m about to have two rings handed back to me before I’m even 30. I am never getting married if this ends.”

And in the middle of my exercises, I just couldn’t hold it in, and say, “Maybe you’re asking the wrong girls to marry you.”

And to his credit, he laughed, and said, “Well, then I have no business being in a serious relationship if I can’t pick well.”

Basically, in my head, that translates to: “I can’t wait to fuck you.” At least, that’s what I think he meant. ūüėČ



I hadn’t talked to The Bod in awhile, so last weekend, I sucked it up and texted him to see how his kickball tournament went:

He responded:

“Not as well as we’d hoped and now I have to referee today. How are you?”


“Not bad. Was gonna see if you wanted to grab drinks tonight, but looks like you’re busy.”


“Yeah, I wish I could!”


“Well, I’ve missed hanging out with you, so if you’re still up for meeting we can do something later.”


“Yeah, let me call you. I’m about to referee.”


Anyway he did call, waaaaay later that night and we had a fun chat for about 45 minutes. He said he was going out of town so we talked about meeting up this weekend after he got back. I told him that I meant what I said about missing hanging out¬† with him and he said he had too, and that he’d call me when he got back to make plans.

He’s back. And my phone’s not rung once.

Last night, I got drunk and finally had the balls to delete his number out of my phone. Let’s be honest, if he calls, I’ll still answer and go out with him, but at least I’m not the one calling anymore.

Today, I deleted out all the rest of the boys that I’ve talked to over the past 3 years (some I met online, some at the bar, some at parties, some via friends): 32 phone numbers.

That’s basically one new guy per month for 3 years. No wonder I’m fucking cranky all the time.

That’s countless dinners¬† and drinks and laughing and sometimes pretend laughing at stupid jokes and sharing the same stories in the hopes that things will work with JUST ONE FUCKING PERSON.

And then, because my life revolves around finding this one fucking person, my parents made me get on this Indian dating website. I think because I don’t talk to them about my dating life, they think I don’t do anything. I’ve literally had a profile up on another Indian dating site for 9 years. I should pull it down but I can’t even be bothered. I wonder if I’ll get a prize for being on there the longest of anyone, ever.

But anyway, they told me to put a profile up on this other site and I told them that my friend told me it wasn’t very good in terms of having guys from the States. They’re mostly FOB (fresh off the boat) or still in the home country.

And Dad got irritated (in a funny way) and says:

Hey – you just need one. So we have to keep trying. Maybe it’s one of ten, or one out of a hundred or one out of a million. But you just need one.

Trust me. I *know* this is a numbers game. I KNOW.







Last year at this time, I was nervously sitting on a plane next to a half-naked Russian, on my way to Edinburgh. I didn’t know if British would remember to come get me or what I was getting myself into.

This year, I left work, got about two blocks, heard a “thump…thump…thump” as I drove and realized there was a nail in my tire. I sat at the gas station waiting for my roadside assistance and bought a lottery ticket while I was there. (Wouldn’t that be an even better story for next year??? Keep your fingers crossed.) And then went to the mall to spend money I shouldn’t be spending. I just didn’t want to come home and be alone.

I hate that I still open my email and sometimes, out of nowhere, I get this thought that I’ll have an email from him. Spoiler alert: I never do. It’s now a year to the day of the only time we ever met. He never put the effort or time in to coming here – and that still hurts, a lot, mostly because it’s a reminder of what an idiot I was. Possibly still am.

He left me with so much doubt about myself – Why wasn’t I good enough for him? Why didn’t he love me enough? What was missing in me that he would rather end it on Facebook than try to make it work? Why didn’t he want to give us a second chance?

And I know that it was never me… it was always his issues, and nothing I could’ve said or done would’ve changed any of that. And I know that if we’d stayed together beyond last Christmas, the outcome was going to be the same, just delayed and more hurtful. He had given me enough signs and flat out told me things that I chose to ignore because I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted to believe I was different, stupid girl that I am. UGH.

Honestly though, I don’t think I’m crying over him anymore. It’s everything else. It’s a year later and NOTHING is fucking different, except we’re not together. But, given that we were never really together, even that’s not so different. I haven’t met anyone new that I’ve sparked with. My job hasn’t turned out the way I thought it would. I am completely underwater on the mortgage for my place. (I actually just wrote out my property-tax check…. it’s so devalued, it’s worth less than a Port-a-Potty. Fucking awesome.)

I have never felt so stagnant in my life and it’s killing me. I look at my friends who are married and raising their kids and I’m nowhere near being in the same place. 30. My magic number had been 30: Married, 3 kids, great job. All by 30. Nope. Didn’t happen.

But, even with all of that, I know I don’t have it bad. At all. My job, regardless of how I feel about it, more than pays my bills and takes me to exotic destinations that I would have never otherwise seen. My friends, who I love, listen to me and put up with my bullshit and are amazing. My family, who drive me nuts in the best possible way, loves me and wants the best for me. I have more than a lot of people ever do and ever will.

When I was waiting for the auto-repair guy, I watched a man – very skinny, 80’s looking jeans that were barely staying up, a strange “crop-top” button down shirt that seemed like it was for a kid, big bushy hair in a ponytail, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I decided in the 3 seconds that I watched him that he’s a meth-addict. He went in and I was curious to see what he would buy… nothing. He came out with a black bag, some papers, and then went through the trash and left.

So fuck it…¬† At least I’m not going through trash for food, or money or anything else.

But still, this is how I feel for now (and here’s hoping something changes, soon):


My mom’s friend called her with information about this guy she knows – they’re family friends of theirs and he, at 36, was finally ready to meet a girl (Flag #1).

So his mom called my mom and gave my mom HER email address (Flag #2). If he’s so fucking interested, why don’t she give his email addy? Why’d she give hers?

I pointed that out to my mom, who just semi-yelled at me that I “have to TRYYYYYYYY”. Fine. What the fuck ever. This is not going anywhere, he’s already not interested and I told her not to get her hopes up. I got told not to be so pessimistic. Siiiiiggggghhhhh.

So I emailed his mom. Gave her my biodata (education, height (I don’t give my weight anymore since I’ve gained), family background, place of birth so they know I don’t need an H1 visa) and some pictures. I didn’t want to, but I’m sick of my parents thinking I don’t try hard enough — that I’m the reason this never works. I think my Dad is starting to understand, after the whole fiasco with Z, but still… I need to reinforce it.

His mom emailed me to say she forwarded my information/email to him. Great – so did I hear from him? Nope. She gave me his email address as well in that same email (Flag #3). The next day, she emailed to say she sent me his wrong email, so she sent one correcting him. At the same time, she called my parents and told them his profile ID on, so I looked him up. The profiles on there have options on who posted them – on your own, a sibling, a parent, a relative, etc. His profile? Posted by “other” (Flag #4).

This morning, I get another email: “I’m sorry, I still sent you the wrong address. Here’s his right one. Please contact him.”

What. The. Fuck. How is this still my problem? How am I still responsible for contacting him? How is that I have to chase these boys to the ends of the Earth, and they have to do nothing? And when it doesn’t work?¬† It’s still my fault. It’s still because I did something wrong. It’s because I wasn’t pretty enough, smart enough, good enough, I talked too much, I said too much — I was just either too much or not enough. It’s a fucking shit place to be in.

Because… at the end of the day, no one in our community stops to think of the heartaches, reasons why things don’t work, or issues. It’s just that SHE (me) didn’t do the right thing, SHE (I) didn’t say the right thing, SHE (I) was too {fill in the blank}: stubborn, unwilling, wrong, ugly, not smart enough, whatever the excuse. My parents are starting to get it, especially after Z and the issues… but it doesn’t stop everyone else from thinking I’m goddamn defective.





Ok… these may not be the worst in the scheme of all things in the world (nobody died, nobody got acid poured on them, nobody was maimed, etc etc) however, given that these are my friends (and all true), I guess they could more correctly be called “The Worst Breakup Stories… Ever (of people I know).”

These are in no particular order, except for the last three, which were particularly heinous. So when I was crying over British (Thank GOD that has stopped) and wallowing in my grief, I would think of my friends and what they’ve been through and how ending things on Facebook may not be the worst ever, just the worst for me.

1) The Camping Trip: (As a disclaimer, I may have laughed REALLY hard when I was told this story. Because as has been established, I can be a bitch) — So, my friend went camping with her boyfriend for his birthday. They drove up to the campsite together, in his car, and met up with a bunch of friends. That night, when she wanted to pee, she asked him to walk her to the toilets. He decided that midnight, when they’re alone and next to an outhouse, was the most appropriate time to end things with her… she had no way to get home, she had no idea it was coming and she still had to spend the night in the tent with him.

What a douche, right? So a month later, when he wanted to get back together, she said no, right? NO! BECAUSE I AM FRIENDS WITH A FUCKING MORON.

They get back together and a couple of months after that, she’d moved back home. Her grandmother, who she was really close to,¬† passed away and she texted him, saying she really needed to chat. He called her, and after she finished crying about her grandma, he told her he wanted to end things. AFTER HER GRANDMOTHER DIED. Holy fuck. Dick did not even have the manners to wait till the next day.

We all know the saying, “fool me once, shame on you – fool me twice, same on me” – she should’ve never gotten back with him the second time. Never. We told her but girls in love are dumb. That’s a universal truth.

2)¬† Indian Boys Suck: My friend was on and off with her boyfriend for a few years, but that Christmas, they were definitely on. He asked her to meet him in London after his trip to India, but she couldn’t for a number of reasons. In any case, she assumed things were going fine on his trip and only got worried when she didn’t know if he was back home. When did she finally hear from him?


They never talked again.

3) White Boys Suck Too:¬† My friend had been dating her boyfriend for about 2 years… they met in Graduate school and were really happy together. Before she left for a trip to Africa for work, she went up north to see him and he freaked the fuck out. She wasn’t pushing for marriage (she has no desire for that), she thought everything was fine they way things were and he just flipped – said he couldn’t “do this” anymore, he couldn’t be with her and that was it. She came back to Atlanta with no idea of what happened. She left for Uganda and didn’t hear from him, even though she’d reached out to at least understand why he changed. She got back from her trip and there were no missed calls, no messages, no emails…

They never talked again.

4) The Worst, part 1:  This story is awful but just the fact that she never took it out on any other guys, that she still trusted and still believed love would find her is the most amazing part.

She’d met and fell in love with her husband at first sight… they were perfect together, everyone thought so. Not even a year into the marriage, he would travel a lot for work and she would offer to go with him. He always said no, she should stay and work on her career, there was no reason for her to take time off. He’d come home, she’d wear sexy lingerie and he’d have no interest in her (and she is gorgeous).

She eventually found out what she’d suspected: He was cheating. WITH HIS COUSIN. HIS FUCKING COUSIN.¬† They divorced, of course.

And you know what? She never let it get her down, I met her about a year after all of this had happened, and she wasn’t sad or crying, just very matter of fact about it and ready to move on. She’s married now to an awesome guy, and just recently had a baby girl. I am SO happy for her.

5) The Worst, part 2:¬† She had dated him for about a year, and been married for just a little over a year… and he’d hit her a few times. He was just a complete ass to her, as was his family. They treated her like shit – even though she worked two jobs and was studying at the same time, anything she did wasn’t enough.¬† She got pregnant and they tried to make it work, and then they had a fight and when their baby was 6-months old, he kicked BOTH of them out in the middle of the night. She had nowhere to go, had a baby and didn’t know what to do. She called her friend to pick her up, her brother booked her a flight back home and never looked back.

They divorced, but since he has joint custody, she still has to deal with him… and he hasn’t made it any easier on her. He’s a selfish dick, but luckily, her daughter doesn’t know that. She thinks her daddy is superman, and yeah, it kills my friend.¬† This weekend her daughter, who is so young but acts older than she is, said to her mom: “Mom, I know the divorce was your fault because you started all the fights. Daddy and I never fight, so I know it had to be you.”¬† What could she say? She can’t tell her daughter that her devoted father hit her mom. She can’t put him in that light, because her daughter adores him and she’s a good mom and wants to keep it that way.¬† So she bites her tongue and figures it’s her cross to bear, and her daughter will never have to know the truth about why they divorced.¬† In the meantime, she’s finally found love again and will hopefully be happy with her new man for the rest of her life.

6) The Worst, part 3:¬† She and he met their first year of college. They both grew up in the same state – they were even born in the same hospital. There were all these coincidences where they were so close to each other their entire lives and it culminated with them living in the same apartment complex when they started university. They started dating soon after meeting and they stayed dating through undergraduate, through graduate school, through jobs and careers and moves. She was committed and devoted to him, and we thought, he to her.¬† After 10 years of dating, he finally proposed and the wedding was amazing.¬† Within a year, she started to notice some weird patterns and secretiveness with him… she figured out his password and confirmed her worst fears: he was cheating.

She confronted him and he denied it, of course, until she told him she saw the email from the other girl saying she couldn’t wait to fuck him again. And then he confessed, and I don’t think she was even expecting what tumbled out of his mouth… ALL 10 YEARS. He had cheated all 10 years.¬† Why did he bother proposing? Marrying her? Asking her to move in? Because he thought if he did all that, he’d stop cheating.¬† He didn’t… he ripped her heart out instead.

When she asked if he’d used protection, he told her it was none of her business. Thankfully, she is fine. He still calls her and begs her to come home, so things can be ‘like they were.’¬† He’s still calls and yells at her for leaving him. Fucking asshole. I hate him the most of all of them, because I knew him the best.¬† She’s happy now though, being single and doing what she loves.

There’s no real point to these stories, except for that guys suck. I know women do too… but these are the stories I know and they make me so sad, because these girls are amazing.



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