Scorned much

Never one am I to sit and bawl my eyes out for an extended amount of time. Given the specific occasion and amount of Xanax, it’s all under control… I cry, mull whatever needs to be mulled over and move on for bigger and better things. The talk of men is a constant topic of conversation because I am single and mingle more than I care to admit. Dating is a natural part of my life right now. It may get run to the ground or laughed to high hell in conversations, but the stories of so many jackass (s) guys are others’ way of living through my embarrassment. Or laughter … we don’t have to put it down too harshly today!

As much as we want to not open up about things in fear of a jinx, it happened; I started talking with someone. We had been talking for a while as friends and right in the middle of phone calls and ongoing text messages, a little bit of warmth cradled my icy heart. Not so much icy, but more of a detoxed and oh-so-chilled heart indeed. With the way things were progressing with this person, it was easy to get ahead of myself. I mean, for someone who is calling you on Christmas, throughout your day, calling at an ungodly hour because they feel like hell and just want to hear you talk. How could you not?

I got ahead of myself. A phrase in the back of my mind that always stays there regardless of the optimism, ‘He’s just not that into you’ was silenced with this one. Despite his annoying antics of going missing for a few days, a week or whatever without a peep. Excuses flew out of my mouth with those absences, defending his time as busy. I got ahead of myself big-time. This guy had gone on the typical ‘hectic week, so you won’t hear from me’ lapses. I called, nothing. Text; again with the no responses. It seemed odd because before he would pick up quickly, but something wasn’t right for those attempts. When I saw a random picture and posting on Facebook, I knew that he was at least alive so I decided enough was enough. I’d give the guy a month, a month of me doing absolutely nothing to reach out to him in order to know where I stood and then delete him from everything if I didn’t hear a sound. Maybelline says I’m worth it, so it must be true.

A few drinks later and a surge of liquid confidence fueling me, I cracked a few weeks in, calling him and got nowhere yet again. Pushing aside that I can typically take the hint of when to let go, but with him it was different—or so I thought. Finally after coming to grips that this was all for nothing and a waste of time, I deleted every form of contact with him, bawled my eyes out and sent a final text before removing his phone number for good. We all need some kind of closure, I mean, I may have gotten ahead of myself yes; with him it was easy to do. It wasn’t some pining and crazy message, but more of a simple way to saying goodbye. It’s the girl in me and the good soul who hates doing wrong by someone even if I didn’t do anything at all.

Come to find out that on the day of romance, Valentine’s Day of all days … I was duped. Played by the master manipulator.

That guy, had been talking to multiple ladies—and I was one of them. Some unknown devil prodded me, and I can’t believe I’m admitting to looking at his profile, but I did. Shameful, I know—it was not my finest hour. As it turns out, another scorned lady pulled a Glenn Close on him and posted something that resonated deep. The same words I considered saying in a cryptic text, but am far too nice to say aloud. Surprise, surprise right? Deep down another bad boy that tried to appear as one of the good ones. Oddly, I’m not even bothered. What goes around comes around ten-fold. I know and believe this with every ounce of my body. He was another unwanted pick in the litter and is going straight to the trash. And that is okay.

So then where does this take me? Back to the drawing board, and on to the prospect of meeting someone new. It’s a highly laughable situation, and God only knows why I keep putting myself through some of these dating triangles, but with utmost certainty—this guy completely pulled me in and I, like many, fell for the kill. Despite all of the bullshit whether it be good or insane we go through with the excitement, the lust and definitely the heartache… it’s still a battlefield to tread lightly over until you’ve found a good and very safe ground. Tired of meddling, but still living each day with a take no prisoners mentality … this was merely one more experience to take in. One more guy to avoid. So until the next one rolls around, I’m dabbing on the glittery eye shadow and keeping on … keeping on.

Love is a battlefield, I certainly guess so. Thanks Pat Benatar for reminding me!