Explanations

Dear Diary,

I don't frigging believe it. As I'm sure you have gleaned from last night's entry (in which I was too enraged to even discuss it) David has crossed the line. Only he hasn't just crossed it. He's cartwheeled over it naked, juggling knives and flicking the V's at me simultaneously.

I don't even want to talk about it that much. For the first time in my life I actually DON'T want to talk about something. I'm GOING to - probably because a therapist would say I need to, to get it out my system. The only therapy I can think of is to put a fucking knitting needle through his eye.

In a nutshell - we started talking online last night. My buddy and I. Some fucking buddy he turned out to be. After a little idle chit-chat, I started looking at hotels - which was starting to seem like a hopeless endeavour, as they were all either too expensive or too far out of the city centre (all the cheap Travelodges were full). And then, out of nowhere, he decides that it probably isn't a good idea after all. Seeing the name of one of the hotel locations reminded him of his ex.... and here we go again. Turns out he's still cut up over the whole thing, and it "doesn't feel right."

So. That's it. After all that, all that bailing, and planning, getting me all worked up, and letting me prepare myself for 3 weeks, he's cancelled the whole damn shooting match. He didn't even give me the chance to sack him off for bailing 3 times. I got dumped before I could dump him.

That motherfucking motherfucker. So, as it stands, I've been dumped as a fuck buddy before I could even have sex with the guy. That doesn't feel good. As a matter of fact, it feels completely fucking humiliating. As we had the conversation, I could literally feel myself going bright red and my heart pounding in my ears, as if I'd been slapped. I couldn't finish the conversation, so I just answered everything he said in short, clipped sentences before getting the hell offline. I don't think he even noticed how pissed off I was. He was being what he probably imagined was "nice," telling me at least I wouldn't miss the gig (see below) and that I'll "pull easily." Rather annoyingly, when I read back the conversation - the things I'd said which sounded really bitchy and harsh, looked like me being incredibly calm and understanding. Fucking hell.

Got ready for work, fuming like crazy and replaying everything that he said. How calmly and easily he finished it all, and how incredibly annoying it was that he didn't even know how angry he'd made me.
Walked to work listening to Rage against the Machine (well, it contained a whole lot of "Fuck you's" and "Motherfucker's") and spent the shift in a shocking mood, hardly saying a word all night, snapping at customers when I did, slamming doors and spilling pints.

So that's it. So it ends. And truthfully - I want to rip his fucking head off. I don't care about his feelings, I don't care about his ex. And horrible as it sounds, I don't care about him trying to patch things up with her. I don't want him to be happy. I want her to carry on ignoring him. I want her to carry on telling him she doesn't love him and shut him out of her life completely. I want him to not have sex again for about another 3 years, I want him to be left all alone and wondering why he was such a twat and fucked everything up himself because he can't make his damn mind up about anything. I want him to feel as upset, utterly humiliated, let-down and hurt as I do. And I want him to feel like that every day, and every lonely night.

Fuck him. At least the path is now clear for Joe (or as Alice hilariously declared - "Team Ginger!"). And whilst I refuse to trust a bloke so readily again, it'll be nice to be taken out and treated like a lady.
In fact, one of Mum's regulars (Steve) at the shop is in a band and apparently they're playing a gig at the theatre in town. So I rang Steve the MINUTE David binned me off and got two tickets reserved on the guestlist, which means we don't have to pay. Texted Joe, and he's well up for it. Fantastic!! I've got a date Saturday night, and we're going for our traditional after-class drink tonight to discuss it.

I guess the Universe (read: Lisa) was right after all - after so much shit, I've finally been sent something good. A nice, funny lad who seems to actually be keen on me. My god, what the hell was I THINKING??! There's a lovely guy can't stop texting and wants to hang out with me - and I was putting it off to go have slightly better-than-usual sex with a guy who kept putting it off cos he was hung up on his ex?? What on earth was WRONG with me??! If a friend came to me with that same problem, I'd have given them an answer in 3 seconds flat. The OBVIOUS answer. I am so stupid sometimes it's really unbelievable. This is why "He's just not that into you" was invented. Greg would be physically SHAKING me by now.

The good news is, I'm not upset anymore. I was yesterday, but I think it was more anger and humiliation than "upset." I don't even feel sad, or like I've lost something. In fact, I just feel slight relief that I don't have to delay things with Joe anymore. And massive relief that I won't be spending loads of money and fretting about booking hotels. Now all I have to worry about is what I'm going to do with that pack of 12, and what to wear on Saturday night. I do feel anger that David turned out to be such a collossal prick, after me thinking he was back in my life - after weeks of him planning all these sexual adventures, building me up and getting me excited. But fuck it. It's done with now, he can go chasing his ex all over the shop desperately trying to get laid, while I embark on the next great adventure. And if things don't work out with the ex and he comes online in a fortnight - whining about how she's still ignoring him before trying to cybersex me again, I'm going to tell him he's nothing more than a pathetic spineless worm who should go fuck himself...... in the EAR.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Current Mood: excited and happy
Current Music: "More more more" - Rachel Stevens