Luscious and Uppity

I can’t stop crying over Mr. PhD and I DO NOT KNOW WHY. 

He is pretty non-spectacular, no? He doesn’t actually have a PhD because he seems to be taking forever to finish that dissertation of his. Not like he went to any stellar schools or anything. Nor does he have a job that pays more than peanuts (and yes, he is ABD so no, he isn’t living off grad school money). I pretty much suspect he has some malfunctioning in his pipes (more on this later) and well, he seems to be the biggest coward I’ve ever met (more on this later). 

Yet, when I go to bed, and stare at the ceiling, all I can do is think of him and all the text messages we’re not sending. And I miss him. 

Stupid!

Why am I being so lame? Seriously. Do you know who I am? There are so many freaking awesome things about me. So many people think I live the best life ever and think I have so much going for me, blah blah. It is what it is, I’m thankful for it. But, um. Why am I so bothered by this human being missing from my life?

I keep thinking of what I could have done, or what I should have done. I keep thinking about the lengths I went to make sure he was comfortable, only for him to fucking disappear on me. Does he know who I am? 

Ugh. 

I don’t know why I am crying nor do I know how to stop. Everything I google online seems to advise women on how to stop crying for their ex-boyfriends. This dude was not my man. Get a grip!

I want to call him and curse him out. If there were a guarantee that I would never see him again, this would be easier. But we have mutual friends and for the first time I am wondering how can I  break free from any mutual friends we have. The problem is I have friends I love and have known longer than I have known him, and they do not deserve to be casualties of this…shenanigan. 

I just wish he would call or text or IM or e-mail me to apologize. So I could ignore him.

thisworldtonighttt:

luscious-and-uppity:

I’ll finish the story later. 

Right now I am so tired. And hungry. I alternate between pigging out and not eating for days. Six days I didn’t eat a thing. 

Now I feel like eating a very greasy meal and crying myself to sleep. 

This sucks. And is unhealthy. 

 As unhealthy as that sounds im a little bit jealous… Lately its like my goal in life is to eat as much as I possibly can. so gross. I need to start gettting my life together in the eating department!

Amen sister. I was on a good plan until this latest episode. I never thought I was those “emotional eater” types, but I suppose I am. 

I’ll finish the story later. 

Right now I am so tired. And hungry. I alternate between pigging out and not eating for days. Six days I didn’t eat a thing. 

Now I feel like eating a very greasy meal and crying myself to sleep. 

This sucks. And is unhealthy. 

For some reason, I texted Mr. PhD. I’d always had his numbers, but was never tempted to text him any other time. But one day I think I had to text him something or other and then he had my number back in his phone again. That was mistake number one. He loves texting. He will text me to death if it were possible.

Then we started talking on IM and Skype way too frequently. At first he would hit me up every now and then. I’d give my computer monitor the stink eye everytime a new chat window popped up with his name on it. I was trying to play nice on some, “oh I can forgive you, and I can act like this shit is totally normal now.” 

But it wasn’t. 

Over time, I just knew I was doing the wrong things. I began looking for him online. I began initiating IM and SMS conversations. Happy that he was talking to me. Because he actually likes me, I convinced myself. 

And so this is where things get sticky. On the one hand, sure, I was dumb for my delusion that he possibly liked me again. I was holding out hope. On the other hand, this guy was putting on a full court press of flirtatious behavior. Mostly talking about sex, or saying flirty things about certain body parts of mine (draw your own conclusions here). Basically, he was the master sexter and everything in between. 

And so silly me, I thought his flirts meant something. 

The good thing was that he and I were in seperate cities for these months, so nothing could go down. Yet, before I returned I kept telling my friends I was worried about what would happen if we got in the same room alone. His flirting was that severe, I swear I thought I would not be able to keep his hands off of me. 

Fastforward to my arrival and I invite him over to my house twice but it doesn’t seem to happen. We don’t live conveniently close to one another, so it didn’t concern me. But I did think after the second failed attempt, I would not invite him over anymore. (To be clear, we had made plans to see a movie and order in prior to my return). If he wanted to come over, he would find a way. Right?

In the meantime I had bizarre interruptions of him telling me about some woman staying the night and annoying him to death. But that’s another talk show. 

The night came for an impromptu meetup at a bar by my house at 1 am. And we drank. And he walked me home. And while he sat on my couch intently trying to find something to watch on my TV, my drunken self sat thinking about what to do here. I thought to myself, self, he likes me. And he’s looking all good over there. And he wouldn’t come here if he didn’t know the deal. So. Test the waters. 

And testing I did. 

I haven’t felt this heartbroken in so long. 

I have so much to update in this here blog.

Briefly, after ignoring Mr. PhD for months, roughly 6 or 7 months, I was drunk and gave in to forgiving him. I dunno why. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d kept my distance, like my gut told me to do. But I guess I never learn. When will I ever learn?

It was a slow creep, the unraveling of my heart. 

It was September when I was able to look him in the eye again, even though I had seen him a few times at gatherings for a mutual friend. 

By December he was inviting me to his birthday party. I didn’t care. I was cautious. I didn’t even wish him happy birthday, nor did I RSVP to his party. I was still hurt, confused, but mostly annoyed by his popping up in my life and thinking we were so extra cool again. 

It was January when I thought to myself, “self? it’s pretty freaking awesome that you have no love prospects, and yet ALSO don’t have any old prospects hanging on, disturbing our zen. This feels good.” It was a new decade. A clean slate in the love department. I wasn’t sad about being single anymore. I was enjoying the thought of finding someone new instead of rotating these pathetic “men” in my life in one way or another. 

Any yet it was as if my declaration of happiness to the universe was an invitation for the shit storm that brewed for the next three months. 

It all started almost four years ago. I met him on graduation day, close friend of a close friend. I made out with him that night. In fact, I went down on him. 

Not my smartest move. 

I was worried that I had lost all control, gotten so drunk I was out of control I still don’t know the explanation as to why I chose to be aggressive with Mr. Ph.D., but I was. And I guess this set the tone of our affairs over the next few years, 

As time went by we would talk occaisionally. Being that we lived in cities very far from each other, I suppose talking was innocanet and light. Nothing was serious because we lived so far apart. 

After a while I realized he liked to text me way more often than he liked to actually talk on the phone. This bothered me. Still, I kept him on my bench, so to speak, because who doesn’t like a focused man getting his Ph.D.? Mistake number two. 

Three years went by, many meetups had passed, and we still had not had sex, but there was lots of making out and Base 3 action going on. After three years, I finally let him have it. It wasn’t the best. But it was passable? Honestly, size matters to me and he was not really what I was expecting.

Months later, I moved to his city. He was aloof. Wouldn’t really show me any affection besides a greeting and departing hug. But he called more often just to talk. He texted me more often to give me updates about his day. It was as if I were his personal Twitter account. 

What gives? 

Either you like me or you don’t, but I sensed some confusing tales.

Then one night he calls and asks me can he crash at my apartment because he is really tired from work and I live about an hour closer to his job than he does. 

This is where things got tricky…

It’s been years since I blogged about my love life, or lack thereof. 

I’m smarter. 

More degrees. 

More accomplishments. 

I’m still single. 

Welcome to my world.