Posts Tagged ‘thank god for good girlfriends

I went to Hilton Head this past weekend with the girls for a little beach getaway.  It was perfect for what we needed – some pool time, some beach time, some drinking time and some catching-up time.

So one night we went out drinking in “The Triangle” (which is more like an octagon)….  guys…. I found the birthplace of frat boys. Everywhere you looked, it was a sea of button down shirts, khakhi pants (or shorts), and loafers. It’s like they’re hatched from the same egg and then become the same person, all variations of Brian, Bryan, Ryan, Rian. ALL THE SAME, except for the vowels.

There was this one guy, at the bar for a long time, already close to drunk when we got there.  He got to talking to my friend (who’s married and the world’s best wing-woman) and then got to talking to me. He was SUPER cute. Big gold cross necklace but I chose to ignore that for the evening. He was in jeans, and as I told him, he was just one khakhi pant away from being like everyone else there. He was slightly offended.

He asked my name, told me his (Brian), grabbed my hand and winked at me. Good god. I’m such a fucking sucker. I had a smile on my face as wide as the Grand Canyon. And then he got up, said he was going for a smoke and said I should go outside with him… I moved a little in front of him, he smacked my ass, and I may have smiled a little wider. (Side note: This is why I’m single. Because I fucking love douche bags.)

SO THEN! I stopped at my friends’ table to just let them know I was headed outside, AND HE LEFT! HE JUST WALKED OUT! WITHOUT TELLING ME WHERE HE WAS GOING!

I didn’t want to go search for him and look desperate, so I hung out with my girls.

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, I assumed he’d left for the night.  I was talking to this guy who looked Bruce Banner and his friend, Sleazy Ryan. SOMEHOW… Bruce Banner went to smoke, found my original guy, Sleazy Brian, and brought him over and says to me: “DUDE!! THIS GUY IS SUPER IN TO YOU!!!”   Yes, yes… just like all the guys that are super in to me and disappear. Awesome effect I have on them.

But at the exact same time, Bruce Banner’s friend, Sleazy Ryan, was trying to get us to go home with them and saying to me: “You guys should come over! We can drink wine! Wanna come sailing with us tomorrow? Give me your number!”

So, I gave him my number for the fuck of it, because what was I supposed to do??  Sleazy Brian sees me giving my number to Sleazy Ryan and says the following, while shaking his head at me: “It could’ve been something.”

WHAT?? IT COULD HAVE BEEN WHAT?!?!?!?! A ONE NIGHT STAND – AT MOST!  Jeez… I do love me some dumb assholes.

So then, we have this conversation. I’m pretty sure the sober bouncer right behind us hated us so much:

Sleazy Brian: “We could’ve been good, but you gave him your number.”

Me: “But… you left. And didn’t tell me where you where.”

Honestly, repeat those two sentences for about 5 minutes.  It was this endless loop of stupidity. That’s what happens when two drunk people talk.

Finally, we get up to go and he follows us out, and we kissed for a bit. He put his hand on my tummy and I pulled away. One – I haven’t worked out in 6 weeks and am not thrilled with the current shape. Two – we’d had Olive Garden for dinner and been drinking for hours. I had to poo so badly, I was worried any pressure would end the night abruptly.  Issues.

Anyway, we kissed briefly, he was super cute and I was super happy and I gave him my number. Never heard from him again.  Surprise. 😉

Oh!! BUT!!! The best part of the whole weekend? Apparently, Hilton Head is some magical land where white boys are unable to tell anyone’s age.  We were definitely the oldest in “The Triangle” by a good bit, and I’m pretty sure all the khakhi-clad boys were mid-20s. Thankfully, they thought we were too!

My friend was chatting with this guy (Sweaty Bryan, with a “Y” as he told us) – he noticed she is married and asked how old she was, she responded with the truth: “34.”   He looked SO HORRIFIED that she quickly laughed it off and said, “Ha ha!! Just kidding! I’m only 26! AND I AM THE OLDEST OF ALL THE GIRLS!”

LOL!! Gotta love her 🙂

And then when we went paddle boarding the next morning (completely hung over), our instructor, who’s in college himself, asks: “So are you girls in school?”

Us: “Yes… yes we are.”  We did confess eventually, but damn, you guys. Cute fratty white boys who think I’m still in college, or at the oldest, mid-20s? I may be in Hilton Head every weekend.

Black may not crack, but Brown don’t get tore-down.

I feel like the young lady, but look like the old hag. Sigh.

I feel like the young lady, but look like the old hag. Sigh.


Actually, it was a lot of fun (“It” being the matrimonial convention I attended this weekend) – so don’t read this expecting my usual snark or annoyance, because I didn’t feel that way, which is a good thing.

As noted before, my table was the oldest. And the most fun!!! Truly – everyone came over and told us how they could hear us laughing and chatting (loudly) and how they wished they were sitting with us.  The tables were 10 each, 5 guys and 5 girls, and we just had a good mix.

The guys at the table were great, but the 5 of us girls got along like we’d known each other our whole lives. And I guess in a way, we have – we all grew up the same, are the same age, are looking for the same things, and have had surprisingly similar life experiences in terms of traveling, family and dating. We were definitely having a little love-fest amongst ourselves.

But – to back it up a bit, it all started Friday at the Fiesta.  Guess who’s the first person I see that I know? Yup… ‘Bidet of Jay‘ guy.  He comes over to chat, I tell him the whole story and he cannot stop laughing. The best part is, as I’d sort of guessed, none of it is true. His sister isn’t even engaged!!!!!

Oy. Indian people are the worst at playing “telephone” – they totally only hear what they want to.   It’s like if I told my Dad, “Hey, I went to the mall today”  and eventually my cousin’s cousin’s cousin’s wife will call and say: “I hear you’re getting married … at the mall!”

Anyway, back to the Fiesta. Only one girl took the dress code seriously – she was in a neon pink dress and neon yellow shoes. She looked like a walking double-sided highlighter. But I’m sure she was very nice!

Fiesta night ended, and we were already in our “table” groupings – we got along so well that our table, plus some others, went out for drinks afterward.  Maybe not the best idea, cause I didn’t get home till 230am, and had to be up 4 hours later. Dude. I’m old and need my beauty sleep. Ugh.

So bright and early Saturday morning, I put on my cute business casual dress and gear up for a day of smiling … the first half of the day was the ‘speed dating’ part – except it’s with the whole table. So, at all the tables, all the girls stayed seated, and then boys rotated around from table to table to meet all the girls.

Oh, excuse me – not ALL the girls. And we didn’t meet ALL the boys. Apparently, it was decided for us that the youngest we’d meet was 29/30 – since any younger would be a waste of time. Don’t they know how well I do with young (white) boys? Sheesh. Guess they missed that memo.

After introducing ourselves to over 50 guys (so it wasn’t like there was a dearth of gentleman to meet), we did some more ice breaker stuff with the guys/girls in our age range and then we started the ranking process.

THIS WAS ALL BEFORE LUNCH! What the hell, yo. Exhausted does not begin to describe how we all felt.

Then, the volunteers (who, I have to really say, did an amazing job – the organization of the whole event, how it ran on time, how they encouraged us without just pressing the marriage issues, reminding us repeatedly to keep an open mind – they were awesome) took EVERYONE’S sheet and entered that data into the computer and came out with rankings.

That’s 250 people, with a minimum of 10 people listed that they’d like to meet on a more personal level, entered into some database and then some program is used to see how you matched up.

THEN! You get a list of all your “1 on 1” matches – so people that mutually chose each other. Plus a list of all the people you chose that didn’t choose you. Awesome, thanks for that. Plus a list of people that chose you that you didn’t choose, which just makes me feel bad.

I had 6 matches, 4 of which were ‘1 on 1s’ – and I REALLY enjoyed chatting with all the guys, even the ones that weren’t a perfect match! I mean, do I think I’m marrying any of them? No, not quite yet. But I’m excited that some of the guys I met were cool and fun and at a very minimum, I’d at least hang out with them again. That’s better than my usual disgust at even having to talk to them, so we’re off to a better start than normal. A

Anyway, we finally finished at … 5pm. That’s 8 in the morning to 5 in the evening. THAT’S MORE THAN I WORK IN A DAY! Jesus. And, we all (and I mean the whole convention basically) went out Saturday night to a club.  Let me just say, all I did on Sunday was sleep. I’m too old for this shit.

Oh – and – don’t think this ends after you leave the event. The organizers produce “The Book” – it’s the holy grail of single Indian people all in one binder.  Everyone who signs up for the convention is in the book, with name/age/height/phone number/email for easy stalking. Seriously, though, it’s even arranged by “table groupings” so that it’s easy to weed out those that are too young and concentrate on the elder statesmen of the crowd.

My parents FAVORITE THING IN THE WORLD TO DO  is to look through the book and mark off the guys they think I should be talking to, if I’m not already. They LIVE for seeing this book. And “The Book” is in such HIGH demand that unless you show up to the convention and show you’re serious, you can’t have it! They won’t send it to you!!!! And if you somehow lose it, sucks for you! We all guarded our books like they held winning lottery numbers.

We were highly encouraged to review the people we didn’t meet, and some of the ones we did, and to email/text/call and keep the momentum going. And I have to say, some of the guys I met have done just that – which is nice!  It may not last or go anywhere, but it’s a good start.

The crazy thing was, during lunch, three of us girls were in line together and I just happened to mention I’ve never dated an Indian guy before – and they both said it was the same for them. There couldn’t have been a more perfect mix of girls if they’d tried.  So… I guess the gist of this is, I went to a matrimonial convention and mostly came away with new girl friends. But, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.

Although, my parents didn’t give a crap about the girls I met —  when I tried to tell them how cool they were, all they could say was, “Yeah, but what about the boys!”  🙂


I shut down my OkCupid account today. I’ve got a few remnant dates lined up for this coming weekend, but I’m tired of dating and this dismissal by “The Bod” hurts my feelings more than I care to admit.

I guess because it’s the same way British did it — the stringing along of “Sure, we’ll hang out. Sure, I’ll call you.” Dangling that carrot of intimacy and continued togetherness, with no intent of actually doing it. I find it so offensive and gross.

It makes me feel like shit to the point where my friends can tell it affects me.

Today I told my friend T how every time my phone rings or I get a text, I still hold out hope it’s him. I hate being this girl. I hate being this insecure, and I hate that I let myself feel this way because some kickball playing douche doesn’t want to hang out.  I shouldn’t care, but I do.

T said this:

The bod – what a bust. Honestly I think you need a real break from him and all these losers. Disable your account, and just focus on something else….maybe getting super toned up or clearing up the clutter.  I can tell he is bothering you a lot!!!  You seemed pretty upset about him, similar but not as severe as you were with British. You don’t need to go thru that again with him so you need to nip this in the bud and move on. He’s clearly in a different frame of mind and even if he does like you (which I think he does) he wants to spend his time chasing soccer balls. I really don’t think its anything against you, just his priorities are different….not worth your time in my opinion!!!!!

She’s right. She was right when she told me the same things about British. ALL my friends were right and I didn’t listen to them then, and let’s face it, *if* The Bod ever calls again (which I don’t think he ever will, but I hope that he does), I won’t listen to them then either, because I’d definitely go back out with him.

But like I told her, I  hate that every time I like a guy, it goes nowhere. I know it’s dumb but I really wonder what’s wrong with ME that AFTER they get to know me (whether a year or a few months) they’re just like, “Eh, I’m never calling HER again. My life’s better without her.”

And I guess with The Bod it bothers me because he’s been married before – so he can clearly commit.  Even if I deduced by my google stalking that she may have been a lesbian.  😉

And I guess the other part that bothers me, in general, about boys these days is the total and complete lack of follow-through. Dammit boys. Say what you mean and mean what you say. It’s not that fucking hard. And provide some closure if you decide that things aren’t going the way you want. Just fading away is the most popular, but most heart breaking way to end things because it leaves the other person wondering why they’re such a loser.

As T says, “It’s just so unprofessional.” Haha. It is!  I mean, are they like this at work to? Do they not respond to emails or calls for months at a time? NO. Because they’d fucking get fired. So why is it ok to be so non-communicative in personal lives? It’s not like I’m looking for a 20 minute discussion about our feelings, but I don’t want to hear, “Yeah, we’ll hook up when I get back” when there’s no intention in that ever happening.

You know the only guy I have that I see consistently, responds to texts and follows-up on plans? MY TRAINER. And that’s because I pay him.




Let’s just go ahead and answer that: Yes. Maybe. Depends on the definition of ‘bitch.’

To back up, I went to a “Stir” event tonight with a friend. We were having fun, chatting mostly with ourselves and the random guy here and there, but nothing exciting.

Then we met these two guys, “S” – he was the one who was actually on Match, and his friend, “T” – who S had dragged along. So S was chatting with us, and he was cute – seemed smart, had a job, is around our age, so we stayed chatting with him. About 2 minutes in, he asked my friend: “So, what do you do for fun? And don’t say travel, everyone says travel but nobody really does it.”

Little does he know who he’s chatting with – she travels extensively for her work, and so do I. Actually, I will pretty much bet that in that group of people at the event, I’ve traveled the furthest and the most exotic-est. Yet, I’m not bragging about it, so why does he think he needs to start with being hostile about it? And he didn’t say it in a cute-funny-flirty way. He said it in a completely dick-ish way, like nobody but him ever does anything with their lives. And pretty much insinuating that if we even dared to say we enjoy travel, we were lying. And then he went on to tell my friend that she reminded him of a girl from high school. That he didn’t like.

OK. Seriously, who does that? Why do that? Why be a dick to just be a dick? And I guess something to know about me – You can talk shit to my face, about me, all day long. I will not give a fuck. But if you ever say anything about my friends, I will make it known exactly how I feel about you – and not in a nice way. I am fiercely loyal and protective of friends and family. Always have been, always will be.

Anyway, he continued to be not so nice to us, so we departed from chatting with him. A little bit later, on the other side of the room, T came over to talk to us, and we enjoyed our conversation with just him – he was nice, friendly, and just fun to talk to.  We were about to leave the event and go to dinner, so we let T know that they were welcome to come if they’d like. They came. Big mistake.

We’re all chatting at dinner and in about 10 minutes, after he’d already been weirdly unsocial and rude, S made a “joke” about women being bad drivers who shouldn’t be on the roads (apparently we got teleported to 1922), talked about how women just like to shop and then called us ITP snobs. And then insulted my friend, again. I was definitely intoxicated when this happened, so I didn’t take too kindly to him being an asshole and this was the ensuing conversation:

Me: “So… do you get a lot of second dates off the girls you meet on Match? Because you’re kind of a dick. I assume they’ll stop at one.”

Him (after being a little speechless for a bit): “Yeah. I do fine. Actually, I get a lot of second dates.”

Me: “Oh, that’s good. And surprising. Cause really, you’re an asshole. I’m not sure how that happens.”

Him: “Well, I guess I’m just an ass when I know it’s not ever going anywhere and I feel like I should be honest, because I have nothing to lose.”

Me: …. just laughter. Really, I couldn’t do anything but laugh at the inanity of that comment. So it’s ok to be rude, mean, and downright vicious because you don’t think you’ll get something out of the person you’re talking to? That’s an awesomely shitty philosphy to live life.

And honestly, I don’t even think that’s true. I think he’s just a little boy, who could dish it out, but when encountered by women who don’t rely on men for every little thing, and were able to talk back and retaliate to the stupid comments, HE couldn’t take it.

And yes, I know I should’ve dropped it. But he was such a fucking prick all night, I couldn’t help but call it as I see it. What woman would want to date him after he’s insulting, rude and condescending? He was all of those things, in an event where you would expect people’s best behavior. So this was his best showing? What’s left to enjoy in the future? Barbs about how women should be barefoot and pregnant? Discussions about how rape wouldn’t happen if women didn’t wear such revealing clothes?

I had invited T (his friend) to a party we’re having, and I’d told S he could come as well. After that last conversation, S said, “OH, by the way, I think I’ll be busy on that night, so I can’t come.”

Me: “Oh. Such a shame. Our loss.”

Seriously, asshole. Don’t fuck with me. And definitely don’t fuck with my friends. I have no patience for it. What makes me so annoyed (with myself) was I thought he the cute one! My friend picked up on the douche-ness before I did, which of course now has me questioning my abilities to choose good ones. Poor T was caught in the middle, and he was definitely feeling awkward.

The boys left before we did, and when the waitress came over, she said: “Oh, they left?” We replied that they had to get home, and she goes, “The one [T] was nice, but the other one was really odd. He was just weird. There’s something wrong with him.”


So… Sure. I may be a bitch, but only when it’s really deserved (in my opinion). The ironic part of the whole night was that my girlfriend said that I was nicer than anyone she’d ever met – I would talk to anyone who approached us, whether I was interested or not. Whether I found them cute or not. Whether I would date them or not. I just think that’s the nice appropriate thing to do. People go to events like this (or even just to the bar, or out in general) to meet others, and I’m not going to ever be rude for no reason. I will talk to anyone who talks to me, and I’ll treat them with respect and kindness and sincerity. Apparently, not everyone thinks like that.

AND… T clearly liked me, because he texted and said it was a pleasure to meet me, and he hopes we meet up soon. I guess I’ll have to forgive his bad taste in friends.

So there… Bitch? Yes. Deservedly bitchy? More than yes.




I finally saw Magic Mike today… I want my $9 and two hours back. HOLY HELL. How could a movie about hot strippers be so… boring? Lame? Stupid??

It turned out to be half-“Wall Street” and half-“Pretty Woman.”  Neither of which I was expecting. I don’t want my strippers to have feelings or thoughts. I WANTED NUDITY. LOTS OF IT. That is what strippers do:  STRIP THEIR FUCKING CLOTHES OFF.

Instead, I got a morality tale of why you shouldn’t sell or do drugs, and a lame “love” story.  Also, I lived in Tampa for a few years — nobody looks like the people in this movie, they’re all fat in real life.  And, Mike’s place in the movie? WORTH MILLIONS. You’re telling me a stripper can afford beachfront property? Um no. I’ll suspend disbelief for some things, but not THAT.

There’s a male strip club here in town (full nudity), which caters to the gay crowd and can be downright hostile to girls walking in on their own. They apparently believe women won’t tip as well… wonder if this stupid movie will change their mind? Also, they usually keep their socks and shoes on.  Do you know how odd it is to see a guy take of all his clothes, except the things that should come off first? And, no velcro tear-away pants. None.  There are no props, per the movie. It’s just boys, their normal clothes, and then their normal clothes coming off.

In any case, years ago, it was my first visit there and by the end of the night I was chatting with one of the strippers, who was actually really smart and fun to talk to – he ended up asking me out, but basically forced me out the door, saying he’d get in trouble if management saw him talking to me, because it would take away the money they expect from the gays. Whatever.

Let me be clear, I never did anything with him – mostly because he admitted he was “gay for pay” – turns out the dancers are mostly straight, but for the right amount, are willing to do certain things. He said all he ever let this older guy do was “touch him”… yeah, right. I’m sure the old guy touched him with his mouth.

The date was fine but really all I wanted to do was talk about stripping, the money he made, how much he liked it, and he didn’t. As Magic Mike says in the movie: “That isn’t all of who I am.”  Are you kidding?  That’s the most interesting part, so that is what I wanted to discuss. We never had a second date, which was fine with me.

A second time we went, it was a group of girls, and we ended up accidentally buying a lap dance. Seriously. It was not on purpose – the DJ asked, “Who wants a t-shirt??” and my girlfriend, A, raised her hand and said she did. Who knows that’s code for a lap dance? Fuck. Not us! So the guy came down (was really cute) and asked who wanted the dance. We all looked at each other and said, “um… nobody”… and he said we took the shirt, so we got a dance.

Let me rephrase that. *I* got a dance. I had some naked guy swinging his medium-sized dick close to my legs. I honestly couldn’t even look, I was blushing. But I also couldn’t look up, because I didn’t want to make eye contact. Basically I looked like a crazy person trying to avoid eye and penis contact.

He goes: “You’re too sexy to be shy – why won’t you look down?” And I responded: “Because I don’t know your name and your penis is reaalllllllllllllllllly close to my jeans, and I’m kinda freaking out.”

He was actually very sweet and backed off. Finished the dance and off he went to the next round. Oh yea… we also didn’t realize we had to pay him – that took us about an hour to figure out, but he never asked us for the money straight out.

Anyway, as I was walking by this table of VERY cute men, they stopped me and go: “Honey, did you see how excited he was dancing for you? He totally liked you.”


I was mortified. And kind of proud. Turned out the whole fucking club saw and I was the only one who didn’t notice, because I refused to look at his gyrating penis.

We ended up chatting with the guys from the table for most of the night. And then we ended up going home with them. 4 girls. 3 gay men. One stripper. (But not the one that danced for us, this one was so cute but sooooo dumb and had a crush on our other friend).

So we got back to the house and the gays were freaking out because they thought the stripper was going to steal something… spoiler alert: he didn’t. We ended up in the hot tub.

Ok. Let me just point out that I was really drunk at this point. And when A and I get together, we’re bad but SOOOO good and fun. It basically turns into: If you do it, I’ll do it and we both end up doing things we wouldn’t have if we were with other people. So me and one of the guys got in the hot tub first and waited for everyone to join us. I thought we waited about 5 minutes. Turned out it was a good half hour before anyone else got in.

So… the two of us… in the hot tub. He was REALLY cute. And REALLY naked.  And REALLY gay. And I only had on my panties. So maybe I felt him up a little bit….until we started chatting and I asked if he had a partner. Him: “Yeah, he is the one who just went to get beer. We’ve been together 17 years. I kinda love you.”

I dropped his dick out my hand pretty quick.

The rest of the night was a lot of fun… they were very gracious hosts and let us shower there, even gave us towels! We left and never saw each other again.

As it should be.

So there, Magic Mike. Two hours of my stripper stories would’ve been more entertaining than the shit we sat through today. Sheesh. Why isn’t Hollywood knocking on my door yet???






My phone is getting to the point where it isn’t accepting any more texts cause the memory is full. Yes, I have the world’s oldest phone. Homeless people have better phones than I do. But whatever. Point is, I needed to delete some texts so new ones could come in.

So I was looking at the messages between me and one of my good girlfriends, going back about a year. Holy Fuck. How stupid was I the entire time I was ‘with’ British? How did I not listen to *myself* the whole time? A whole YEAR of uncertainty and being treated like shit, but not doing anything about it? That’s not me. Really. That isn’t me. I don’t know why I fell so hard for him – I cannot explain it at all. He was always on the verge of jobless-ness, wasn’t a perfect athletic specimen, never had any money, always had apologies and excuses for why he fucked up, cute but nothing jaw-dropping, and just overall not *that* special. I sound like a bitch and I don’t mean to – I just am trying to figure out what I fell in love with, but there was just something special. I blame the stupid accent.

Anyway – these are between me and her, and they show the sad/unsure side.  One day, when I’m able to, I’ll share the ones between me and him. The ones that were fun and sexy and the things he said (on the phone, in email, via sms) that made me believe he cared, which I think he did, but again, I had enough clues to see what was going to happen, I just couldn’t get off the train…. it was headed for this crash ending the whole time, and I couldn’t pull the brakes.


  • Me: “I was ready to stop talking to British but he said the reason he hasn’t been in the mood to talk is because the anniversary of his dad’s death is coming up and then I felt like a bitch for pushing him to talk about us”

So that played out for a month… he was out of touch, called when he could, emailed when he could, and each time he did would say how much he missed and loved me and how sorry he was for not calling, and I let it all go.


  • Her: “You seem more sad lately and I know its because you are frustrated with the situation”
  • Me: “I know you guys can tell and yup, just frustrated. i can’t wait for him and if/when he shows up, he can deal with what i’ve doing, i guess”

BIG TALKER! I’m a BIG fucking TALKER who didn’t back up any of that. ARGH.

June and July were just spent crying since he wasn’t able to break up with his girlfriend for whatever bullshit reasons he gave me.


  • Me: “I just deactivated facebook. It made me mad that he ‘liked’ something on facebook but couldn’t message me back. And I don’t want to stalk his European adventure.”

He left for his fucking bike trip and didn’t even email to let me know. This was AFTER I’d already booked my flight to see him so I guess he pretty much thought he didn’t need to let me know what was going on since I was a sure thing.

End of August

  • Me: “I’m afraid he’s going to forget to pick me up at the airport”
  • Her: “Why would he forget?”
  • Me: “Bc he forgets everything. I won’t be surprised if he comes back from this bike trip with something broken”
  • Her: “Just make sure you have cab fare. You’ve been to Africa, Scotland will be a breeze!”

So it turned out that I actually had good reason to be worried. His ex that he couldn’t break up with was a one-night stand to start with. They’d fucked, she’d left and they didn’t talk again for 5 months. When she called him later to meet up at the bar, he sat there and drank by himself thinking he’d got stood up. She came over and asked him if he was trying to make an ass of her – nope, he just hadn’t really remembered what she looked like. Considering it’d been over a year that we’d seen each other, my worry was totally justified, even if I hadn’t known that then.


  • Her: “You have to give British x number of weeks and make a decision. Put him on the back burner if you need to”
  • Me: “I know. I need to decide something by the end of the year. I just need to be strong.”

HA HA HA HA HA. Strong. Yeah, right.


  • Me: “I’m in a bad mood because British can’t be bothered to call. How’d you do this??” (She was in a long-distance relationship)
  • Her: “You mean the long distance bullshit and poor communciation? It was terrible. Guys are really bad with it. that’s why i’m telling you to stop bothering with it, you’ll drive yourself crazy!”
  • Me: “you’re right. I’m just so annoyed to know to know that he couldve called/txted but didn’t”

FUCKING HELL I AM A MOTHER FUCKING IDIOT. Just massive idiot. I am ashamed of myself. Oh, but it gets better.

November (after he got back to the UK)

  • Me: “Talked to British finally today. he got in fri, had no phone, yet managed to get a call to go to a party over the wkend. Im not even mad any more. Just sad. I don’t think he cares at all. Or maybe now that the chase is over, he’s done? Who knows. So sad.”
  • Me: “Still no call from Brit, yet on his FB his friend wrote ‘sorry i missed your call’ 😦  So sad”
  • Her: “So I see youre stalking him?”
  • Me: “Ha. Yes. Stalking. When you say it like, i sound insane. i need to not care. Fuck man. I’m all screwed up.”
  • Her: “Its a tough situation and you don’t have enough distractions (ie boys in atl) to take your mind off him. We need dates!!!”
  • Her: “My hairdresser said guys will push it as much as they can, like not calling and seeing how far they can get away with these things. He said to date someone else and let him chase you. If he doesn’t, he’s not worth it. He said guys are just jerks.”

It was already done at this point, I just ignored the signs…. he didn’t call to tell me he was home. He didn’t pick up when I called. Why did I let this hurt me so bad when I knew from the beginning what to expect?

December (after not picking up when I called)

  • Me: “Why do I look at fb???????? He’s a f’ing dick”
  •  Her: ???
  • Me: “Apparently he’s alive and hanging out with friends all wkend. He ignored every call while I cried.
  • Her:  😦

I deleted a lot of other texts between us cause I needed the space on my phone… I deleted all of his a long time ago as well, but wrote them down first  (I’m basically my own secretary at this point) so I can remember that I wasn’t insane. I didn’t make this relationship up in my head. I just believed the things he wrote. I think he did too – but it’s easy to say things from thousands of miles away, or not say anything, as evidenced above.

A few months ago, hell, even a few weeks ago, I would’ve cried about these… but now, I’m just mad at myself for being such a dumb girl.

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