I was eating my breakfast this morning. Crunchy peanut butter on top of a crunchy granola bar. Yummmm....then I sneezed. I sneezed crunchy peanut butter mixed with drool all over the front of my shirt. And you know what? I am not going home at lunch to change my shirt. This shirt is perpetually dirty. And I'm sick of it. Do you have any shirts like that--you wash them, wear them and immediately get something on them? I hate that. This blue shirt I'm wearing today is like that. I have a purple and a white one that are the same way. So. Annoying. But at least I always know where to find them: they're in my dirty clothes.
FedSucksy called me last night. We basically repeated the same conversation we had the night before. This is stupid. I have better things to do with my time. Hot or not, I am telling him to bite me if he calls again. He is a waste of my time. What am I going to do, date him until he stands me up again? Whatever. I don't think so. I don't need an apology that badly.
Ok, do you want the bad confession or the good confession first? What was that? Bad? Ok.
Bad Confession: I awoke this morning to 2 texts from Repo. I think my heart stopped for a second. Were these the texts I had been hoping for? The "This is a huge mistake. We have to stay together." kind of text? Or the "I miss you. Please let's talk." text? Um, no. I don't have luck like that.
The first text was meant for his sister. (Or was it???) He apparently got his dad's ring back from his ex, Jessica Simpson. (This is good, because she's had it forever and his dad has passed away. He's been asking her for it for weeks.) The second text was an apology to me saying he meant to send the first one to his sister. I replied that it is ok, and I was glad he got the ring back. The end, right? Wrong.
Of course, the next logical thing is for me to start crying, right? Right. And I've been on the brink of tears all day since. I forgot that between the "I Need Closure, So Gimme My Stuff Back" stage and the "I'm Cynical" stage is the worst stage of all: the "I Miss Him" stage. I forgot it doesn't happen until you have made it clear you want zero contact. Dammit. I hate this. I am totally vulnerable now. I am sad. I am worried that I made a mistake. I am worried that I will never see him again or talk to him again. All I can do is re-play all the good memories over and over in a loop in my mind. And ask a zillion "What if...?" questions. Even more so, I am worried I will never feel this way about someone again. All I want is to get back together. Now. And pretend none of this even happened. If he calls me, I am a goner.
And I just texted that to him: "I hate this." --which he probably won't understand. Because it is out of context for him. Maybe he will ignore it.
So now I'm going to spend the next 48 hours being The Girl Who Checks Her Phone Every 5 Minutes. I hate that girl. I hate being her. Just when I get enough strength to stop being her, I do a U-turn and I'm back to square one.
I forgot how much breakups like this suck. For the past 3 years, I've only had those "Oh, yeah, well, I never really saw myself with you, anyway. It's been real. Nice knowin' ya!" kind of break-ups. The ones that sting for about 3 days, and then it's like it never happened. This one is different. It's a big one. The slow, painful kind where for months, I will come home from bad dates or going out to the bars and dissolve into a heap on the floor, shoulders shaking. Then I will strip off my single girl outfit, crawl into bed without washing my face and cry myself to sleep.
Why do I do this to myself? I must enjoy torturing myself. I gotta snap out of it.
Good Confession: No cigarettes since Saturday!!!! Although, after today, I don't know how long that will last....
I guess I'm not done being sad, yet, guys. Hang in there. You might have to bear with for a while....
Today is K's birthday. I made her homemade cheesecake. Two, actually. Tonight we are going to meet up with some of her friends at a Mexican restaurant. (MMMM! This will definitely improve my mood. I heart Mexican food.) It should get my mind off of stuff. Maybe even until it's time for me to go to bed.