Does anybody read these?

Every day, I am reminded that my heart is still a little roughed up. I blame myself for most of it. For starting to fall in love with you when I knew better,  and for pussy-footing around and not telling you how I felt until it was too late, until you were gone.

I feel stupid that I felt that way about you, but I feel even stupider (is that even a word?) that I can’t get over you, no matter how hard I try. Albeit, how hard am I really trying since I have blamed your assholiness on the entire male species?

Over and over in my mind, plays the scene of another break-up. Where I drove off crying, while someone I loved stood in his driveway and started to tear up, as well.  

Maybe this is worse because I didn’t have that break-up scene. I got a text basically telling me to stop texting, so that “little Miss I love Google” wouldn’t ever find out that I’d texted. In some ways, I secretly hope she’s reading this since she loves Google so fucking much. But, I haven’t checked my visitor stats in weeks (yes, I know, bad blogger) so I couldn’t tell you if she’s been here or not.

Usually my blog appears when you Google me, so perhaps she has. However, as tempting as it may be, I have resisted the urge to throw-down on the Internet with her. After all, it’s not her fault you’re an asshole; and she’s the person who’s stuck with you. (It’s also not her fault she looks like a dude, or maybe it is.)

That’s what I don’t get. You turned out to be a complete and total son of a bitch. There is NOTHING else to describe someone who breaks up with someone via text because they couldn’t go three days without knocking off a piece and had to go crawling back to their ex-wife. NOTHING.  Well, except maybe sex addict. Three days? Pah-lease.

Oh, my point, before I went to Insultville? Oh yes, who the hell gets upset when they get dumped by a complete and total son of a bitch, even when it was right before her birthday? Perhaps that’s why I feel stupid and pathetic.

The fact is, we clicked. Our relationship ended up being something completely and totally different than what it started out to be because we got along so well. But, of course, the ending was also completely and totally different than it was supposed to be. Maybe I’m just mad because I’m prettier and not a bitch and didn’t deserve to get dumped.  Come to think of it, I rarely deserve to get dumped, but what am I supposed to do about that?

Although…bitchy and whiny is really the theme to this little rant of mine. But, this is my space; I am allowed to be bitchy and whiny here. I have not been bitchy on any of your spaces, although in some ways I wonder if I should’ve. One of my friends told me that he thinks that guys dump me because they know I won’t all go all crazy ex-girlfriend on them. Maybe, just once, I should. Maybe I should send you a bitchy text thanking you for letting me be a pawn in your game, hoping she’ll snoop on your phone like she usually does.

But, no, for some reason I still want to spare your feelings, even though you’ve obviously never given two shits about mine. I guess that’s the difference between genuinely caring about someone and biding your time until someone else smiles at you. And maybe that’s the difference between her and me. She’s obviously put up with your shit much longer, and I know from a quick glance at the Internet that the shit she puts up with has been much worse than getting dumped at Disney World. (Although maybe she doesn’t know, but she is a Googler, so I doubt it.) Even though it’s obvious that you probably used me, it’s not like I didn’t benefit from it as well. At some point, my having self-esteem probably would’ve been an issue. It always does with guys who think the fat girl will take what she can get.  

Funny, in writing this, it’s cleared up a lot of issues. I guess that was the intent all along. While I have no intention of letting another guy steamroll my emotions anytime soon, I suspect that I will live even though you totally took the pussy way out. After all, who wants to go out with a guy like that anyhow?

Song of the day: Whatever song would be the love child of an Alanis Morrisette/Miranda Lambert hook-up.  Let’s call it “You oughta know I’m your crazy ex-girlfriend.” Ha ha ha.