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.