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On Monday, happenstance occurred. Happenstance, I say, because I’m not sure I believe in fate or destiny, puzzle pieces fitting together just so. I see a yellow sticky note on my office floor. I leave it there for several hours. I have things to do. In the mid-afternoon, I pick up the note and take a look-see. I’m jolted to see it. His email, the asshole, who ruined the name Steve for me, although I never liked it anyway. The one with no affection for me. His email, who I’d finally forgotten. His email, written down a year and a half ago just in case we ever started communicating again, still waiting to be typed in my compose box.

He’s not much to me, not even painful to think about. He’s nothing. He’s an asshole. He is Steve.

He facebooked me a few months ago and I told him to never contact me again.

I’m not sure why I can’t bring myself to throw the sticky note away.

it was a year ago today
since I saw him last

it was a year ago yesterday
that he told me he had no affection for me
branded it into my psyche

it was a year ago yesterday
and on this anniversary
by coincidence only
he emailed me
wondered if we were on speaking terms

it was a year ago
I would have forgotten it was our anniversary
if he hadn’t contacted me

it was a year ago
I cannot bring myself to believe
he’s been counting, too

My ex-boyfriend asked
          How is the world treating you these days?
My ex-boyfriend said
          I have no affection to give you.

So when my new boyfriend says
          I have a headache.

I do not say
          I’m sorry, honey.
I do not say
          Is there something I can do to make you feel better?
I do not say
          I will take care of you.

I say
          Oh really.
I say
          You should probably take something for that.

It’s happened. A continuation of a saga I thought was as over as it was going to be.

Maybe it’s predictable. But the wind is knocked out of me and I feel as though my life depends on how I recover my breath.

My ex-boyfriend emailed me, asking how the world was treating me. When I saw his name in my inbox, I started shaking. I felt like crying. Now, I’m just shaken.

How long have I wanted to hear from him. How long have I wanted to tell him off. How long did I ache because of him. I still want to tell him off, but I do not want to open Pandora’s Box. It is a bitch to close. I resent this shit being brought up again. Let me do a brief refresher: My ex was an asshole. He told me in bed that he had no affection to give me. But apparently he had other sinister things to give, which have since cleared up, but who can forgive someone for making them skank.

And so since I’m trying to stay in my right mind and not having a knee-jerk reaction, Bryan has encouraged me to take this to my blog and faithful readers. And I will say this: Bryan is probably one of my biggest supporters when it comes to the menfolk. He does understand that there is a lot of first-hand learning that must go on in a girl’s life. He also said this is a good thing because even though I am stunned, this gives me a chance to control “closure.”

 

Possible responses:

 

  • No response. Stony silence.
  • “Well, ex-boyfriend, the world recently told me in bed the other day that it had no affection for me and then gave me a STD.”
  • Part 1: “Fuck.”
  • Part 2: “You.”
  • Nothing. No stony silence, no tell-off. Just be strong and leave it be. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.
  • “The world is treating me great.”
  • “The world is treating me great since I got the restraining order.”
  • “Well, to tell you the truth, there are no sunshine and rainbows. Let me catch you up to speed: a friend of mine got jumped by a grizzly bear and a “grizzly bear” if you know what I mean, I suffered the loss of my aunt, I have had approximately 1.5 mental breakdowns since we last spoke  and approximately 1.5 of them were a direct result of you, I hate peas. I have had a guy leave the country without telling me, had one who wanted to cuddle, one who is very available, one who emailed what is the most confusing rejection slip I’ve ever gotten (to be highlighted soon on this blog, if I get bored), one who was leaving the country to go fight in Afghanistant when I met him, and one who is a therapist…”
  • “I’m not going there with you.” (This was his response whenever I wanted to talk about horrible things like feelings and meaning.)
  • Send a link to this blog so that technically all responses are delivered.
  • Any ideas? Thoughts of encouragement? Truly, I would love your input and I can assure you I have affection for you, dear reader, and I will not give you a STD.

SOB with me

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