Last week I was in LA. Did you guys know I was in LA?
The day before I left, I saw my ex boyfriend on a street. We haven’t spoken in a while and the last time we did he basically told me we couldn’t be friends because he needed a clear definition between our relationship and his current relationship (??? i don’t know, it was something. he said something). I’d screenshot the email but in that email he also asked me not to blog about him or think about him or speak his name out loud or something like that - definitely the blog thing was mentioned, though, so I will refrain.
I was doing an excellent job of not talking about him for the longest time because outside of our relationship, he’s a pretty boring person (outside of any personal relationship I have, everyone is boring). But then, as I just said, I saw him on a street in LA a few days ago, and while it may seem difficult to fathom, I sometimes have rational, adult thoughts and when I saw him, I thought to myself, “We are both adult people and we are both in LA and in very close proximity, I think it doesn’t seem crazy to send a text asking if i just saw him.”
So I did that. I sent him a text referencing the randomness of the situation, the possible weirdness of the text because we aren’t speaking and asked if I had just seen him on Cahuenga.
ONE DAY later he responded:
Btw I love my girlfriend please leave us alone.
Like? LOL4DAYZ rite?
Apparently (I did not know this and you may not have, either) my ex boyfriend is
a fucking megalomaniac the king of the United States! He needs to be “left alone.” He and the first lady - his anonymous girlfriend/almost wife person - need to be left alone.
Both of them.
WHO SAYSSSSS THAT? The last time I can remember someone earnestly using the phrase “leave us alone,” I was watching a Lifetime movie and a woman was yelling and cradling her child in defense from an absuive husband.
And then there was this guy.
This is a person I used to live with, a person I used to be in love with and who I used to love. This is a person who I broke up with a year and a half ago who told three of the closest people to me (including the only person I believe has ever really loved me - my dad) that I was bipolar, without consulting me, a medical professional or even WEBMD.com! Typical leaving alone behavior, I’d say. If you asked me about it.
This is a person I haven’t seen in over a year. This is a person I haven’t spoken to in more than six months. This is a person who asked me to leave him and his girlfriend alone.
I don’t know exactly what constitutes not leaving someone alone, but I feel that a period of silence that spans almost two seasons is as close as one can get without being strangers. He’s acting like I’ve had hits put out on him.
I texted you ONCE in six months because I saw you on a street. I’m not outside your presumably shitty house in the gauche LA neighborhood you live in trying to win you back. Get a fucking grip.
Anyway, all that being said, he pretty much nailed it. We’ve been battling it out for a while for the upper hand and he was holding it together, but he just lifted himself up and is high-fiving God right now from his new position.
“Leave us alone.”
It’s the new “calm down.”
There’s no way to come back. I tried. I wrote:
wow. you are gross if you think that’s how you need to respond to me. grow up.
It is gross. That’s the only way to explain that behavior, but even though I’m a better person, I’ve still completely lost the upper hand.
It’s debilitating and there’s really nothing you can do to regain power. I mean, I guess you could look fly as hell and write a blog about how over it you are, and pretend like your life is going well…
I guess? I’m not really sure. RAY CHARLES TO DA BULLSHIT, Y’ALL.
consequently, i just smoked a cigarette, ate three cupcakes and cried into a plate of risotto in a packed restaurant (a restaurant that used to be my favorite restaurant (but is now just the worst place on the planet)) while my friend patted my back and our waiter toddled awkwardly around us trying to discern if i was, in fact, weeping or if the liquid gushing from my face was… something else.
GAME. FUCKING. OVER.
so, real talk - and stop me if this is just the early onset depression (oh, anon, you were so right: “Treatment is often prompted by depression associated with dissolved romantic relationships”) talking and i’m wrong here, but - it seems to me the only logical next step is to trick someone into marrying me?
because, in addition to having histrionic personality disorder (self diagnosed, and anon diagnosed), i also suffer from delusions of reference, so i’m certain their engagement is directly related to me and further confirms my suspicions that i am both undesirable and unlovable and that they got engaged deliberately to ruin my life.
SOMEONE SHAKE ME, JESUS CHRIST.
and therefore, i must retaliate and find a husband immediately.
i’m still fleshing out the logistics of the get married plan (serious okcupid profile? sleeping around? sugar daddy?), but stay tuned… i’m bound to do something hugely destructive!
You know what’s the best about the internet? (Besides everything, obviously)
You can write whatever you want about anyone you want and there’s nothing they can do about it. I mean, they can tell you to stop, but there is absolutely nothing they can do about you posting stuff about them (unless it’s slander, I guess. But for the most part, anyone you’re writing about is just a normal person who is not concerned with involving the law in order to get you to stop posting stuff about them… so yeah! NOTHING THEY CAN DO!!)
They can ask you nicely not to post things about them, they can pretend like they don’t read your blog but that “things get around” (even though you know damn well 100% for sure they read your blog) to make you feel a little guilty about posting inflammatory (factual) things about them, but it won’t stop you from posting whatever you want, because it’s a free fucking country.
And, that. That is the best thing about the internet.
Yesterday I baked a cake because
it was Monday. I am crazy. it was Monday. - I have no idea why I baked a cake yesterday, but I did. (I have no idea why I do anything I do, really.)
I haven’t baked a cake or cooked a single thing (aside from one random night at midnight I made an incredibly unappealing pot of pasta that I picked at for three days and then threw away pretty much in its entirety) in this apartment (or any apartment) ever, but last night I was like, Yo, let me whip up a cake right now. (That’s how I speak in my daily life.)
So I did. Because, for another crazy reason, I happen to have boxes of cake mix lying around, despite the fact that I do not cook and I do not like cake. I also have boxes and boxes of pasta and rice and various other groceries I haven’t the slightest idea how to cook and have even less interest in learning how to cook… LIKE CAKE!!!!!!!!!
The last time i baked a cake was four or five years ago and it was for my then boyfriend (who is ten years older than me) for his birthday. And it was a two layer vanilla cake that I made from scratch - that I made four times from scratch. I messed up the cake three times. I made and remade this birthday cake for my then boyfriend (when i was 18 years old and had no job) four times. I then gave him this cake and planned a (TERRIBLE) surprise party (no one showed up.) and later, after the cake and after the party, he asked what his gift was. SMDH.
(On a scale of 1-10, how over hearing about my relationship with my ex boyfriend in 2005 are you? 11? or 12? I’m coming in around 11. I’m so sorry. But, trust me, I hate myself more than you hate me.)
I think I was appropriately traumatized by this person’s insensitivity and thus haven’t opened an oven since (except to store my shoes and hide my snacks)… until last night!
I nearly set my apartment on fire because I preheated the oven to 500? Or whatever the highest setting is and forgot to take out all of the junk that was sitting in it.
Here’s an absurd picture from a series of even worse pictures I was taking of myself when I started to smell glass and plastic burning. The fact that I was taking a “series of pictures” of me sitting on a couch while,
simultaneously, I was trying to carry out a task involving an oven AT ALL is cause for concern (and, also, the cause of a potential disaster.)
…but then I got serious and baked a cake.
Here’s the shittiest thing I’ve ever made:
A cool thing you guys may not know about me (if you believe there’s stuff you may NOT know about me) is that i turn everything i touch (i really want to write fuck, but it’s so inappropriate - and also, not entirely true. only true for three people in dis life and two people i’m about to talk about - so, touch… with my lips (there are eight of you)) into famous (well, to some degree… at least momentarily).
My first boyfriend was an actor and for the entire year and a half I was with that man, loving him up, he was bartending and auditioning and generally broke as a joke. One day he shoots a pilot (The only audition I ever helped him prepare for bytheway. I’m such a doll/gem), a few weeks later, he
destroys my life breaks up with me, a few weeks after that the pilot gets picked up, he moves to LA… and he’s a secondary star on a hit tv show for three fuckin years.
The dude I dated briefly between my first ex boyfriend and my second ex boyfriend was an aspiring writer-director. Dude “breaks up” (We weren’t really a thing. Yes, obviously, I was very much operating under the assumption that we were a thing but, objectively speaking, we were definitely not a thing) with me via text, saying he “can see [me] getting attached and it will only hurt [me].” (Smart guy. Astute!) Maybe six months later, I’m reading about this guy’s film in Variety and my friends are going to see it at the IFC center.
And now THIS.
That is my ex boyfriend’s new tee shirt line. He also just wrote and directed a film. He ALSO turned into a babe. So, somewhere between THE BREAKUP and THE THIS, a lot of things happened for him. Clearly he’s been doing a lot of things in the way of moving on and up and living his life, which is great and should be celebrated.
So, buy some tee shirts (My faves are The Worker and The Seekers.) Celebrate the impending relevance; Get in on it before everyone else is. They’ll turn you into a model and tennis player… or just look cute on ya.
This has been a sincere post. I’m sorry.
Last year on my birthday, my then (sort of ex) boyfriend (THIS guy) told me I was bipolar!!! I don’t know what’s in store for me this year, but I am more than excited to find out if I’ve acquired any other mental health disorders in the past year.
Also, last year on my birthday, I didn’t get any gifts. I mean, unless you count the crude psychoanalysis from my charlatan ex boyfriend… I DON’T!
I haven’t really gotten gifts on my birthday since I was like 13
(terrible parents!!!!), but if anyone would like to change that…
Here is a list of things I want for my birthday:
1. this bag, duh.
2. this ring (but no engagement, plz).
3. this mattress…. queen, pillow top, lol.
4. an “m” earring.
5. a massage.
6. these shoes. size 7.5
7. a flip cam.
8. this fucking knife.
9. this camera.
10. THESE shoes.
11. this coat (which I tried on this afternoon and looks 100x better on me than that pic.) or this coat (this coat).
So, any of those things.
But, no. All of those things are really expensive and while I do reaaaaallly like them all (and stuff, in general), I’d just like to not be gently harassed or bullied into believing that I have a psychiatric disorder while having dinner.
And I don’t mean to ask for so much, but also, what I’d really like is to go to dinner here with the four or five people who live in New York and can stand my company. (And for the restaurant to not be made aware of the fact that it is my birthday.)
And, also, $25,000, if at all possible. ugh.
it’s giving me a sick amount of pleasure imagining the amount of time and effort it took my ex boyfriend to come up with the sentence “I’ll dig it up and throw it in the package.”
It’s so beautifully apathetic and disdainful, i can’t handle it.
Like he’s a dog and my jacket is some filthy toy he’s misplaced. He’ll dig it up for me. He’ll dig it up and throw it into the package. Throw.
I just imagine him like, Hmmm… what’s the least amount of effort I can put into an action? Digging and Tossing? Is that it? “I’ll dig it up and toss it in the package.” No no, not quite. Digging and Throwing? “I’ll dig it up and throw it in the package”. That’s it.
I can’t stop thinking about this, I really can’t.
And I am 100% aware of the fact that this makes me a complete psychopath and I do not give one shit. And I will continue to not give one shit until I am no longer able to convince myself that this sentence was manufactured to make me go insane and not, simply, an unintentionally callous stringing together of words.
………..Ok. Done. I am a psychopath.
He just hates me, so these things come naturally.
I just recently made the decision to freeze both of my ex boyfriends out of my life, because I can’t deal with their bullshit.
And by “their bullshit” I mean “their girlfriends”.
I mean, I don’t really mean that, I mean “their bullshit.” But, I’m going to pretend like I mean “their girlfriends” so if anyone gets mad, we can all act like I’m just a crazy ex girlfriend.
I saw ex boyfriend 1 when I ended my cross country roadtrip last week and we had a pretty painful lunch, but as far as casual meet ups between the two of us go, I suppose it was standard. I don’t know, I really love him in a way I don’t think he understands or cares to understand but it has a lot to do with the fact that he was my first boyfriend and my entire life for about two years and a little to do with the fact that I don’t think he ever loved me, so part of me is always subconsciously trying to prove that I’m worth loving.
This always happens; Everything starts off fine, but then, inevitably, he does something to upset me, I react and he doesn’t realize (or pretends not to) and things get awkward and I usually end up apologizing for no reason or storming off or giving him some version of the silent treatment and then we get over it and then we don’t see each other for another very long period of time, we forget that this always happens and … repeat.
When we had lunch last week he basically told me he thought he was going to die and that if he found that to be true, he was just going to kill himself. He wasn’t kidding. And I was crying. And he did not stop saying this. He claimed not to have noticed the tears welling up and shooting out of their ducts.
It’s been a little over a week since I saw him. Today I decided I am no longer going to be friends with this person. Because that is the bullshit.
Ex boyfriend 2 is different because he’s always been pretty great and we’ve gotten along well since we broke up, post him
calling me batshit fucking crazy diagnosing me with manic depression and alerting my friends and father without consulting me… (or, incidentally, a doctor!) and pre right fucking now.
I know he has a girlfriend he met at a point when, I don’t know, I sort of thought we were getting back into a casual sort of thing. I also know that that’s fucked up. On top of this, I know that I dealt with it in a surprisingly rational manner, realizing that we were over and that I was over him and that we were going to go on with our lives being cordial and maybe even friendly, since for a very long time, we were very much in love and as far as I was concerned, certain that we were each other’s THE ONE.
The last thing I know about this sitch is that when you gain the upper hand (so important), you can do whatever the fuck you want. That’s the whole point. And this person has gained the upper hand - he has a girlfriend now; he’s moved on in a real and tangible way - and now he doin’ what errr the fuck he wants.
The other day I texted him to check in to make sure he hadn’t drowned in the flood that was apparently going on in his city. It’s been two days and still no response. It’s like, dude, suck my dick. I know you have a girlfriend and you can’t be bothered to respond to text messages and it takes you days to even process anything I have to say and weeks to respond to emails and probably a month to come to terms with the fact that I still exist, but give me a damn break.
You have a girlfriend- you’re not president of the Unites States. You’re not the first person to have a girlfriend. You’re not the first person to have a girlfriend and an ex girlfriend who is trying to remain friends. You’re just a person, living your trifling life.
I honestly think the whole i have a new significant other so i can’t talk to my ex is total fucking bullshit. You shared months/years of your lives together, you lived together, you met each other’s families, you slept togehter and then one day you fall out of love and spend some time being sad about all of those things you did together and you meet someone new and you fall in love and you just forget about the person you did all of those things with? And now you only want to do those things with the new person you’re kissing and fucking and loving, right. That makes sense. But now all of a sudden you cut the other person out of your life?
TO THE DAY I DIE I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND THIS.
And this is not how I live my life, so this person has also been deaded.
Sucks that this will have literally zero effect on both of these people because they’ve already done this. I may be late to the party, but I got here and it was boring so I left.
i just saw a picture of my ex boyfriend in a tank top…
he seemed to be wearing it totally unironically.
the first time my ex boyfriend (before he was my boyfriend) came over to my apartment, he was like
oh, have you ever seen my website?
and i was like:
no… no. not at all. nope
and he was like: [typing] “www.noou-” and then an entire screen worth of previously visited links (THREADS, PAGES…from. his. website) showed up in the scroll down url bar….
hmmmmmmm…. oh, guess i have been there….
last night my friend and i went out to eat and drink and hang out like normal adults at a restaurant.
then we casually drank two bottles of wine. AND SHIT GOT OUT.OF.HAND. (of course shit got out of hand, has shit ever not gotten out of hand when you’ve had an entire bottle of vino to yo’ damn self??? and don’t be acting like you’ve never finished a bottle of wine by yourself. just don’t.)
first of all,
yeah, i don’t know. i just don’t know. yesterday i’m all about being a badass bitch and murdering it via SMS. and just a mere four hours later i pull this fuckery. but okay, things happen when you’re chilling out (maxing, relaxin all cool) and downing wine like it is your fucking job.
(sometimes that is my job)