This is not a happy post.
*With shame* I'm downloading Justin Timberlake's new song as we speak. I am ashamed. This comes only days after irately informing Garrett and David that no one was bringing sexy back into that bar, especially not if I was breathing and mobile. ("NO ONE IS BRINGING SEXY BACK. Got it? Not you, not me, no one. It will come back over my dead body.")
In not-happy news, I am a coward. I think of the few people I'd like to tell off every now and then (You stole all my pot! -You cheated on me. -Etc.), and I think, "Gosh, if that dickwad ever tries to talk to me again, I'll give him a new hole to shit with."
So... what's so intimidating about "hey if u know who this is, we need to talk." Followed by, "r u there?" And then, "is this megan?" I could plausibly have opened up a phenomenal can of whoop-ass the likes of which have never been seen. I wanted to. I should have. But instead, I blocked him and logged out without saying anything, because it is most likely exactly who I think it is, and I don't ever, ever want to deal with that ever again. It makes sense, because that's almost how long it's been since I used MSN, and the hotmail addy is the one I so stupidly, stupidly gave him.
I just thought I'd point out what a fuck-up I am about all that. He contacted me - actually attempted to start conversation, after almost three years, and I couldn't even go to bat for myself. Not even a decent, "Why in the fuck would I ever want to talk to you again?" I bet he has no idea what went wrong that made me avoid his calls avidly, because I seem to remember him mentioning that we should meet again. I also remember looking at him with decided shock that he was stupid enough to ask me when I was clearly about to snap, and at that point I said, "Uh, yeah. I can't see that happening."
I'd like to go on a huge "How Dare He" rant, but I don't have it in me. I don't even believe it half the time. I can't blame him entirely for the stupid choices I made. Sure, he was a large part of the problem, but if I'd heeded my warning bells at midnight instead of twenty minutes too late, I'm positive this wouldn't be an issue. It's actually kind of nauseating, looking back and seeing exactly where you went wrong, and knowing that if you'd done or said one little, itty bitty thing differently - and then failing to understand why you did or didn't do exactly that.
Like I said... nauseating, even after so long.
I just had to put it in writing. The above is all I have to say on the matter, and unless someone fills me with a large amount of alcohol, that's all I want to say about it again for a long time.
In not-happy news, I am a coward. I think of the few people I'd like to tell off every now and then (You stole all my pot! -You cheated on me. -Etc.), and I think, "Gosh, if that dickwad ever tries to talk to me again, I'll give him a new hole to shit with."
So... what's so intimidating about "hey if u know who this is, we need to talk." Followed by, "r u there?" And then, "is this megan?" I could plausibly have opened up a phenomenal can of whoop-ass the likes of which have never been seen. I wanted to. I should have. But instead, I blocked him and logged out without saying anything, because it is most likely exactly who I think it is, and I don't ever, ever want to deal with that ever again. It makes sense, because that's almost how long it's been since I used MSN, and the hotmail addy is the one I so stupidly, stupidly gave him.
I just thought I'd point out what a fuck-up I am about all that. He contacted me - actually attempted to start conversation, after almost three years, and I couldn't even go to bat for myself. Not even a decent, "Why in the fuck would I ever want to talk to you again?" I bet he has no idea what went wrong that made me avoid his calls avidly, because I seem to remember him mentioning that we should meet again. I also remember looking at him with decided shock that he was stupid enough to ask me when I was clearly about to snap, and at that point I said, "Uh, yeah. I can't see that happening."
I'd like to go on a huge "How Dare He" rant, but I don't have it in me. I don't even believe it half the time. I can't blame him entirely for the stupid choices I made. Sure, he was a large part of the problem, but if I'd heeded my warning bells at midnight instead of twenty minutes too late, I'm positive this wouldn't be an issue. It's actually kind of nauseating, looking back and seeing exactly where you went wrong, and knowing that if you'd done or said one little, itty bitty thing differently - and then failing to understand why you did or didn't do exactly that.
Like I said... nauseating, even after so long.
I just had to put it in writing. The above is all I have to say on the matter, and unless someone fills me with a large amount of alcohol, that's all I want to say about it again for a long time.