What is it that I want to write about?

Him? Haven't the last hundred or so pages been sufficient? When do I get to stop? I'm so done after that last "episode". So done.

Sigh.

It's unfair, you know, how all of those books and movies that I've spent so much time on are misleading. And untrue. And fake. And a sham. Love doesn't happen that way. No one sees you across a crowded room and chases you. No one starts off as an irritant or sparing partner and suddenly becomes the love of your life.

Have I given up? At 34, hanging up my gloves? Oh, I want to. But obviously this pen is making a fool of me. I want it. I want love. I want a relationship. I just doubt that I will find it. I'm different. And it's not because I'm fat and it's not because I've been depressed for so long. I'm just different. Why oh why can I not just go down that same basic path that everyone else seems to be on? Different is lonely. Strength is lonely. Is there anyone out there for me? Anywhere? There must be. How can I find him? Why the fuck do I care, for shit's sake? It's all a joke. Fucking love. My ass. It's heartache and tears and doubt and miscommunication. And faking orgasms and compromise. It's conforming and giving up who you are.

Who needs it? Put in another movie and crack open that tub of ice cream and move on already. Sigh.

Maybe we're just both really horny, he says. Maybe we're just both really horny. I say that I felt bad about the email and there's this deep deep part of me screaming LOVE ME! LOVE ME! Make it all better! And he says maybe we're just both really horny.

And then I whisper thank you and turn off the computer.

Stoopid computer.

Stoopid computer, I said. And it is. Stoopid. The source of our meeting, our first correspondence, the source of tears and nights spent alone. The object of my obsession. And now my friend and confidante. Ha! In a drunken stupor it's more like a sword. In my back. In my heart. Stoopid computer. Please go away. And take him with you.

This is the email that I sent to him on March 19. The subject was "ouch".

"I can't tell you how much you have hurt me. I spent so much time loving you and wanting you. I hope you never get that again. I hope no one ever loves you like I did. I hope I never see you again. Fuck off and be your own warped version of yourself because I really loved you and that's gone now and that's your problem, not mine. I never want to see you again. No matter what I say... I don't want to be your friend. I want nothing from you other than to forget you exist. Goodbye."

Beverly, Beverly, Beverly. One phone call? Almost a week ago? Look at you. Where is the strength? The resolve? You know he's not for you. You know you don't want to be with him. You're happy enough on your own for now. So - what the fuck, girlfriend? Seriously, is there anything he could say that would make you take him back? (yes) Is there anything about him that you actually miss? (yes) WAIT! Let me rephrase that. Is there anything you might miss that's been apparent in the last year or so? (sigh)

It's over. He's gone. He wants to "be friends". He wants to clear his conscience. He wants the girl who giggled at his jokes and moaned at his cock and when he gets his fill he'll be on his way again.

Did he get that assfuck that he was looking for? Is he calling because the three-way is all set up and he needs number 3? And, if not, could you ever trust him now? (yes)

SHUT UP! Repeat after me: Fabe-who? Nope, doesn't ring a bell.

Move on. Don't get sucked in. Things don't change. Things won't change. Let go already.

Because. I. Am. Seriously. Sick. Of. This. Seriously.

And, anyway, why would this even bother me? I know he can't offer what I want and need. I want encouragement and support. I want doors held and toilets fixed. I want comfort and respect and strength. I don't want to wait for someone who can barely spend their time with me. Someone who comes and goes without rhyme or reason or justification. Someone who needs another to complete his sexual needs. Someone who really doesn't want me that much and has told me that they cannot love me.

Who is this naive little girl trying to suppress the fantasies of "what if"? Doesn't she realize yet that "what if" no longer considers him an option, under any circumstance? Silly girl.

Continue your journey, down the path in the opposite direction. There is someone waiting for you. Someone worthy and deserving. Someone who will love you and want you. And only you.

There's nothing left to suck you back in. It's been confronted. And it's gone. And it was never really there to start with. <3

Why did that mutherfucker call me? Doesn't he know how tired I am today? How much I need sleep to be able to face another crazy day? Doesn't he know that I don't want to keep going over and over and over this? Enough. More than enough. Long ago.