So. Sometimes you think you are on top of these whole feelings things. Like, you’ve meditated, prayed, sacrificed a virgin to ancient gods, rubbed a stone, and took a nap. You’re ready to go. You’re ready to face the world again. You’re wrong. I was wrong. So. Wrong.
For you to fully appreciate this I’m going to have to tell you a story. This story will make you sigh, groan, shake your head at me, marvel at my integrity, and groan more. It’s a warning. I feel like all of my stories should come with a, “what to expect” label. I should make an infographic for this blog with ratings for stories and then at the top of each one put those little markers so you know. Like a movie rating system. Sorry. I’ll move on.
The story. In May I received a weird text message from a weird number. Since I haven’t just given out my phone number in years I was more than confused. We had some pleasant conversation then it turned to my ex. This person claimed that they met me in a bar that I used to frequent on Saturday nights ($2 drinks for the win!) like a year ago. Let me make something perfectly clear-I don’t give my number out at bars. I never have. I never will. It’s a dangerous practice that even I abstained from. So this person, continues on knowing way too much about me. I’m not sure what he was there to accomplish but it didn’t work. Also, he totally gave me a fake mobsters name. Ha! Like I hadn’t seen The Departed. Flash forward a couple months and I accidentally call said person because it is like midnight, I wasn’t wearing my glasses, and sometimes my fingers can’t find what they want on that damn touchscreen. “He” texts me back the next day asking if I called. I apologized and told him it was an accident. He tells me he met my ex at a bbq.
Normally I would have shrugged but the only thing he knew about my ex was that he was military. The end. No names, no MOS, not what he drove, no ethnicity, nothing. As small as this place seems sometimes it is still too large to deduce who I dated from that amount of information. So he says that the ex talked about me. Sure. What’s not to say, “she was completely wonderful and loyal and I fucked her over. It’s cool though because I didn’t really care about her or the fact that she was a person.” Apparently, he said I’m clingy. (I’m not clingy. It is not clingy to want to see the person you are dating more than once. You know what’s clingy? The way he became with the horrible woman he dated during/after me) So what do I do? Ignore the fact that there is some person pretending to be someone else that has far too much information about me? Hell no. I swallow my pride and unblock him from KIK.
Yep. The ex. Unblocked. I message him. Ask questions. I still don’t know if I believe him. He claims he has no idea and never said I was clingy. We continue to talk. He flirts. I may flirt back (groan away. I stopped myself). Then he gets sick. Not regular sick. Hospital sick. The big “C” word is mentioned. Every part except my heart says, “who cares?” My heart says, “his family isn’t here. What if it was one of your friends? What if it was someone you loved?” Turns out I’m a fucking decent person. I talk to him. I visit him in the hospital. I become friends with him on facebook (this was forbidden when we were dating). I scroll. You see, I thought I was over all of the hurt. I thought I wasn’t angry anymore. As I scrolled and saw all of his posts that proved he was with someone else while dating me I realized a couple things:
1. I’m not that nice.
2. I’m soooooooooo much prettier
3. Being an EMT does not make grammar your subject
4. This hurt and anger will never go away
5. It doesn’t have to dictate my life
It was like being sucker punched. Evander Holyfield couldn’t have hurt me more than this did. I was so upset that I didn’t even sleep well. I wanted to rage. I wanted to comment on every post just to show him that I saw them. I wanted to scream and throw things. I wanted to listen to 3 Doors Down (it’s my angry music-leave me alone). I didn’t do any of those things. I closed the browser. I texted people. I took a hot bath when I got home. I listened to some Neil Gaiman. I told myself that just because he hurt me once doesn’t mean I have to let him do it again. Being nice to him doesn’t mean I have to let him take advantage of me. But most importantly, this hurt and anger shouldn’t dictate how I interact with guys in the future. Because so far it has and that really sucks for both of us. So just because my ex is a dick (yeah, he’s still a dick because he isn’t sorry) doesn’t mean every guy I meet is.