In good ole obsessive fashion, I decided to contact Text just one last time. I told him that I would stop texting him since he was ignoring me and that I loved him. Silly, I know. So what? I did it. Get over it. I have enough shameful behavior stored in pockets of fat for all of us to feast on. He finally responded. Was it to say that he loved me too? Well, he didn’t seem too elated with my message and basically told me that I should move on because I “f#cked up a great thing”.
Hold the f#cking presses!
Time out! Stop the f#cking clock!
Flag on the play!
Houston, we have a muthaf#cking problem!
I effed up a great thing?
I won’t lie, fake the funk, or act like my sh#t don’t stank—I wondered if I overreacted by giving Text his walking papers. I thought of him every day since our break up and missed every single thing about him…even the bad. I haven’t shared the specific specfics on our break up but I will now but I have to start from the beginning…
Text usually has his kids every weekend and expressed to me that it was one of the reasons why we couldn’t spend much time together. Fine. That was understandable. This particular weekend, he shared on Facebook that he didn’t have the kids and was going to spend the day at the movies. (Sidenote: I told him just the night before that I wanted to see the new Denzel movie Safe House. Keep that in your pocket until later.) I got uber excited. Yay! My boyfriend and I would finally get to spend some quality time together. I even did my happy dance. Yeah, I have a happy dance. Doesn’t everyone?
So, I contacted him as I giggled like a schoolgirl and squealed like a pig. My text was ignored. I called a bit later. That was ignored too but I left a voicemail. He texted back an excuse that reeked of bullshiggidy and said that we would chat in a few minutes. Well…as you may have guessed by now (gosh, you guys are so smart), I didn’t hear from him. A few minutes turned into a few hours. And during this time, he somehow managed to inform everyone via FB about the movies he saw—including Safe House. Yeah. You read that last part correctly. (balls up fist)
He didn’t contact me until the next evening. Guess what he had the nerve to text me? Are you ready for this? A new episode of Family Guy was on TV. Really dude? Really? That pissed me off. I didn’t reply. Later that night, he sent a pic message of his freshly shaven junk. Yes, he sent a pic of his weiner, his Johnson, his pickle, etc. As if that wasn’t enough, he also had the nerve to display it in all of its soft-serve ice cream limpy glory. That pissed me off even more! I didn’t respond.
The next morning, I forwarded the “visual” back to him and said that he could have it back because I replaced him. Yeah, I lied. I wanted to hurt his ego because he hurt me when he blatantly ignored me, smeared it in my face and might as well had asked me how it tasted. Well, it tasted like sh#t I tell you! It was obvious that he had no regard for my feelings so I decided to f#ck his feelings without lube. I went on tangent about our “relationship” and you know the rest. He went on Facebook vented, issued an empty threat, and never texted me back.
Fast forward to the present…
So…I f#cked up a great thing? Are you serious? No!!!!!!!! This requires a ghetto-filled “Is you serious?” with a side order of death stare, finger snap and neck roll! As I read this message, something finally occurred to me—this guy isn’t such a great catch. He’s not the greatest thing since sliced bread! He’s not all of that and a bag of chips. He isn’t “the sh#t and the urine” like Kanye.
What was I thinking, smoking, snorting, and/or drinking? I couldn’t possibly let him escape with such foolery and delusions in his head. I had to do a public service for all womankind. I had to give him a reality check. I shot off a list of the things that he’s done to me and in previous relationships (I know of 3 of them) and followed each statement with a “is a great thing?” He didn’t reply. How could he? What is there really to say after that? Oh yeah, YOU GOT SERVED!!!
It was so liberating! It was like something came out of me and freed me from his spell—a little thing called realization. I see everything so clearly now. Wow. Is this what realization feels like? The tears stopped. The pining stopped. The what ifs have come to a screeching halt. The urge to post him on Don’t Date Him Girl has subsided. I feel relieved! I feel like a weight has been lifted from me. Velcro can let go once you pull it apart. I can now move on. I have closure. Wow. Is this what closure feels like? Why didn’t anyone tell me?!
No more nights of drinking excessive amounts of wine. No more lounging around soothing myself with pastries and sweets. No more missing weeks from the gym. No more rebound sex. No more penises waiting on the sideline just to boost my fragile ego. BTW, I kicked one of those said penises to the curb just a few minutes ago! The rest are also getting their walking papers. I’M ON A ROLL PEOPLE!
By the way, he’s the one who f#cked up a great thing.
I’m just saying.