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So, five stages of grief. I've been bouncing around on bargaining and denial for awhile, I think. Now I'm squarely in the "angry" territory. Yep. Pissed beyond measure. Pissed about how he ended the relationship, how he acted during the relationship, how he's acting now.
As per usual, he is showing an astonishing lack of tact in going about this. He is exceedingly good at dropping huge bombs on me without any warning or way to react, and he always manages to exude pure innocence when he finally has to deal with the fallout of said emotional bomb. This "skill" of his was never so finely on display as it was during his "I don't wanna live with you anymore, 'kay gonna go to sleep now seeya in the morning" act. Of course, I don't want to downplay the sheer tactical genius of his "A customer's coming so I can't talk for long, but I totally think our relationship is headed for failure and it's probably best if we break up oh hey gotta go now sorry bye!" move.
Of course, they say practice makes perfect, and he certainly has been getting an ample amount of practice lately. His most recent stunt is almost stunning in its subtlety, in its pure diversion of emotional responsibility, and is probably the closest you can get to a complete lack in tact.
Remember my low point? Asking him that if he still loved me that I wanted to be with him as long as I could, until the future got in the way? Imagine a well, a really deep well. One that's so deep and ancient that its walls are lined with dinosaur fossils. I was lower than that. I was about eye-level with the spring that supplies the damn well. And it showed in my voice. To even the most casual observer, it was obvious that I was hurt, in immense pain, and totally fucking in love with this guy.
You'd think maybe if someone's in that bad condition, you'd spent four years dating them, and you consider this person your best friend, that a promise to get back to them regarding the issue on Friday might be strictly observed. In Tommy's case, you'd be 100% wrong. He sent me an IM on Gmail-yes, seriously- that said "Hey I have some more of your stuff, some clothes. I'm going to bring them by on Monday. I might be kind of late."
I didn't get the message right as he sent it- in fact, I was busy getting shitfaced drunk (I'd started around 6 pm) and at that point was lying on the kitchen floor, clutching a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and slurring to myself about what an asshole my ex-boyfriend is. By the time I actually read it, he of course was offline and no doubt sleeping peacefully.
Let's break down this message: First of all, he doesn't mention Friday at all. He has either a)Forgotten the day he said he'd get back to me on this, or b) COMPLETELY forgotten about this altogether, which is quite within the realm of possibility. On top of that, it seems that I've been given my response- obviously, if he was going to say yes to my proposal he wouldn't want to give my clothes back. I just got slapped in the face...and then slapped again on the backswing. Nice.
I may or may not have texted him "You can take all your bullshit, and those clothes, and fucking shove them. Okay?" I am declining to comment at this time.
And yes, I will make this public, because he'll never read it. I don't think he's read my journal in years.
....................,/¯../
.................../..../
............./´¯/'...'/´¯¯`·¸
........../'/.../..../......./¨¯\
........('(...´...´.... ¯~/'...')
.........\.................'...../
..........''...\.......... _.·´
............\..............(
..............\.............\...
So, five stages of grief. I've been bouncing around on bargaining and denial for awhile, I think. Now I'm squarely in the "angry" territory. Yep. Pissed beyond measure. Pissed about how he ended the relationship, how he acted during the relationship, how he's acting now.
As per usual, he is showing an astonishing lack of tact in going about this. He is exceedingly good at dropping huge bombs on me without any warning or way to react, and he always manages to exude pure innocence when he finally has to deal with the fallout of said emotional bomb. This "skill" of his was never so finely on display as it was during his "I don't wanna live with you anymore, 'kay gonna go to sleep now seeya in the morning" act. Of course, I don't want to downplay the sheer tactical genius of his "A customer's coming so I can't talk for long, but I totally think our relationship is headed for failure and it's probably best if we break up oh hey gotta go now sorry bye!" move.
Of course, they say practice makes perfect, and he certainly has been getting an ample amount of practice lately. His most recent stunt is almost stunning in its subtlety, in its pure diversion of emotional responsibility, and is probably the closest you can get to a complete lack in tact.
Remember my low point? Asking him that if he still loved me that I wanted to be with him as long as I could, until the future got in the way? Imagine a well, a really deep well. One that's so deep and ancient that its walls are lined with dinosaur fossils. I was lower than that. I was about eye-level with the spring that supplies the damn well. And it showed in my voice. To even the most casual observer, it was obvious that I was hurt, in immense pain, and totally fucking in love with this guy.
You'd think maybe if someone's in that bad condition, you'd spent four years dating them, and you consider this person your best friend, that a promise to get back to them regarding the issue on Friday might be strictly observed. In Tommy's case, you'd be 100% wrong. He sent me an IM on Gmail-yes, seriously- that said "Hey I have some more of your stuff, some clothes. I'm going to bring them by on Monday. I might be kind of late."
I didn't get the message right as he sent it- in fact, I was busy getting shitfaced drunk (I'd started around 6 pm) and at that point was lying on the kitchen floor, clutching a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and slurring to myself about what an asshole my ex-boyfriend is. By the time I actually read it, he of course was offline and no doubt sleeping peacefully.
Let's break down this message: First of all, he doesn't mention Friday at all. He has either a)Forgotten the day he said he'd get back to me on this, or b) COMPLETELY forgotten about this altogether, which is quite within the realm of possibility. On top of that, it seems that I've been given my response- obviously, if he was going to say yes to my proposal he wouldn't want to give my clothes back. I just got slapped in the face...and then slapped again on the backswing. Nice.
I may or may not have texted him "You can take all your bullshit, and those clothes, and fucking shove them. Okay?" I am declining to comment at this time.
And yes, I will make this public, because he'll never read it. I don't think he's read my journal in years.