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I don’t love you anymore. Goodbye.
“Your words sound hollow in my jealous state.”
“Jealous? When do you ever get jealous?”
“When there is something I can’t have, that I gave up. And every memory with it stings and every memory without is even more unbearable.”
Funny. You only seem to want what you can’t have, be it girl or job. You tell me you still love me but where is this love? I can’t see it, I can’t touch it. I can’t feel it. I can hear it. I can hear some words, but I can’t do anything with your easy words. And every time you offer up that three-syllable lie, I want to push you further and further away.
You’re an idiot. A complete idiot. You had me and I could’ve loved you. But how does one love a man who refuses to be loved? For all your sweet words, you never convinced me of any genuine affection. And now I think it’s too late, because for us, there is no matter of friendship. My platonic standards are more demanding than my romantic ones. I never liked you. You treated me unkindly. As a boyfriend, you were endlessly disappointing. As an ex, you’ve managed to be worse.
3,000 miles is not something either of us can change, but if you were going to call everyday, if you were going to tell me how utterly amazing you think I am weeks after we’re over, if you were going to kiss me the morning of my flight to Boston, then one would think that you would have approached our breakup with a tad more tact.
I spent the better part of late summer trying to free myself from thoughts of you, but it wasn’t until I breathed Cambridge that your taste finally left my tongue. Today, I came across photos of us and we seem so utterly mismatched that the idea of ever having dated seems ludicrous at best.
I lied. I don’t miss you. I haven’t since I boarded the plane.
“Are you afraid that I am going to fall out of love with you?”
“No.”
Are you afraid that I am going to call your bluff?
October 12th, 2006 at 3:32 pm
Hell hath no fury like a women scorned?
Oh the joys of taking quotes out of context (But what is more fun libeling, or self-pity?)
“Instead of listening, you’ve just decided to cut me out of your life. I’m kind of surprised that you reacted the way you have, without giving me any chance for dialogue at all. I don’t understand your reaction, and it’s disheartening that you think so little of me…
For whatever reason, I still value your friendship and I don’ t think it makes sense to throw away an entire relationship over something easily amendable. So I am writing you out of my blog completely (now and forever) in hopes that you won’t write me out of your life.â€
You did a great job of that dear.
From a response I drafted “To be clear, your exhibitionist neurosis represented by your personal behavior and writing and makes me extremely uncomfortable; and in many cases, is grossly irresponsible.â€
…Dated Aug 25th
Thankfully deleting you from my phone and blocking you on IM was easy the second time as the first.
You are confusing dependency with pity (only thing they share is a y). Yes I feel bad; not because we are no longer together, but because you were so obviously hurting. Your plaintive I love you’s were awkward not to requite. You have moved on, congratulations.
And congratulations on keeping your legs closed this quarter and not drinking yourself into oblivion every night. Your mother would be proud.
October 12th, 2006 at 4:20 pm
“I’m over you !”
“I AM !”
“Not even true ! Not even hurted !”
“I don’t even care !”
“Me neither !”
etc.
… people are watching you, behave well.
October 12th, 2006 at 4:38 pm
Thank you for clarifying. I now understand that you’ve called me everyday since I left California because you pity me, because I am “so obviously hurting” here in Cambridge. Your entire discourse is a quote out of context.
But thank you, really, for your congratulations. The only thing the two of us have in common is that we are remarkably good at getting each other where it hurts. You’ve been too nice lately. Now the world makes sense again.
November 30th, 2006 at 11:36 pm
You people are so pathetic it’s not even funny. I can’t even pity you.