Seriously????
Ok,
so.
When I told him things weren't "working out" for me (that was back in April) I deleted the email account with which I spoke to him and facebook de-friended him to save myself from the sure-to-happen compulsive checking.
Then, in May, he posted another ad on craigslist and this sealed the fact that I knew I should never again speak to him. I deleted his number from my phone.
A few weeks later I found his business card in my desk. At the time I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. Later (about 3 weeks ago), in a moment (or several...) of weakness I called him using the number on that card. I left a message saying I was thinking about him and wondered how he was doing and that he could give me a call if he wanted. He never called back. A week after the phone call wasn't returned, I ripped his card to little bits and threw it away. Thinking, again, that I was out of ways to contact him.
Then I get some stupid verizon text message yesterday and I start going through my inbox and realized that I still have messages from him (most of them saying something like "Oh, I know we had plans tonight, but I forgot I had to do this other thing, so sorry, maybe some other night"). I deleted them- CONVINCED that this was the last piece of him to be erased from my life.
But of course, life loves a good joke. He fucking called me last night. What the hell. If you are going to ignore me, ignore me. If you want to talk to me, talk to me. Not some fucked up half-in-between shit. I am fairly certain the call was a "testing the booty-call waters" since he asked "Is tonight going to be a late night for you... are you going to be up for a while?" I eluded the question. And to top it all off, I was nice. We chatted for about 30 minutes. He told me not to be a stranger. "Likewise," I said. Yes, we'll be great friends returning each others calls every 3 weeks. But who is he kidding? We were never friends in the first place. "I'd like to be friends" translates to "I'd like to still have the option of calling you every once in a great while with the high hope that sex will ensue" Fuck you, Steve... and fuck me, too, for not being able to let this go, for not having enough self respect to just tell him to fuck off.
Nope, giving into the loneliness. Because temporary "solutions" always work so well.
so.
When I told him things weren't "working out" for me (that was back in April) I deleted the email account with which I spoke to him and facebook de-friended him to save myself from the sure-to-happen compulsive checking.
Then, in May, he posted another ad on craigslist and this sealed the fact that I knew I should never again speak to him. I deleted his number from my phone.
A few weeks later I found his business card in my desk. At the time I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. Later (about 3 weeks ago), in a moment (or several...) of weakness I called him using the number on that card. I left a message saying I was thinking about him and wondered how he was doing and that he could give me a call if he wanted. He never called back. A week after the phone call wasn't returned, I ripped his card to little bits and threw it away. Thinking, again, that I was out of ways to contact him.
Then I get some stupid verizon text message yesterday and I start going through my inbox and realized that I still have messages from him (most of them saying something like "Oh, I know we had plans tonight, but I forgot I had to do this other thing, so sorry, maybe some other night"). I deleted them- CONVINCED that this was the last piece of him to be erased from my life.
But of course, life loves a good joke. He fucking called me last night. What the hell. If you are going to ignore me, ignore me. If you want to talk to me, talk to me. Not some fucked up half-in-between shit. I am fairly certain the call was a "testing the booty-call waters" since he asked "Is tonight going to be a late night for you... are you going to be up for a while?" I eluded the question. And to top it all off, I was nice. We chatted for about 30 minutes. He told me not to be a stranger. "Likewise," I said. Yes, we'll be great friends returning each others calls every 3 weeks. But who is he kidding? We were never friends in the first place. "I'd like to be friends" translates to "I'd like to still have the option of calling you every once in a great while with the high hope that sex will ensue" Fuck you, Steve... and fuck me, too, for not being able to let this go, for not having enough self respect to just tell him to fuck off.
Nope, giving into the loneliness. Because temporary "solutions" always work so well.