Magic 8 Ball

(No, this isn't a continuation of the last post. I don't feel like writing about the bad part of my Monday Night Disaster just yet - still makes my heart pound. Oh, the drama.)


Big, stupid, cliché dilemma. Should I or should I not call him? Text him? Facebook?? Ugh.
No, I'm not actually debating calling a guy who hasn't called back. I don't do that. I'm mulling over mending things with someone who may or may not be sorry for a crappy situation that happened last year; regardless of how true his apologies are, he sure is insistent. I mean, you meet someone at a club (under very funny circumstances, must I say), exchange numbers, and go out for about three times afterwards. That in itself is a miracle. But then things turn bad and you go all "Another One Bites the Dust" on him ("Killer Queen" style ha ha) and promise yourself you are never, ever going out with him or anyone remotely like him again.

And then almost a year goes by and he's still calling. You never answer. He texts. You don't even read them. He adds you on Facebook and posts cute Merry Xmas/ New Year/ Birthday messages on your wall. Maybe you just post an icy 'thanks' comment and leave it at that. And then he sends you billions of private messages and you start to wonder what the fuck is wrong with the guy. He can't possibly like me that much. Such things don't happen in the real world. Plus, he's supposed to be scared by your little bitch fit. And you're supposed to be royally pissed, still.

Somehow, things are all backwards.

He gives you a lame excuse about losing his phone (and with it your number) and when you stupidly ask for his number again (lying about having 'accidentaly' erased it), you see it's still the old number. So either he a)managed to keep the same number but lost all his contacts, b)is just making asshole-y small talk, or c)is sort of asking you permission to start the calls again. And the texts. But now you don't have the option of not answering either - you're the one who fell for his words (again) and asked for his number (again). You gotta answer.

So here I am, blogging. My very own form of a Magic 8 Ball. When in doubt, I type away. Words gradually form in front of my eyes and before I know it, I have a silly prophetic answer right in front of my eyes. Funny thing is, no matter how silly it looks and sounds, it's always true. It does come from some crap place of my subconscious, doesn't it? Very Dr.Phil indeed, but hey, if I'm the one typing, then these words must be mine. This 'answer' must be mine.

Where does this leave me, exactly? Call him, don't call him? Text him? Facebook? Ugh.
Yeah, it's probably stupid to hold a grudge against him like this for eternity when... well, I don't wanna make his mistakes public. I should probably give him just one tiny little chance. Just one. A slow smile is spreading through my lips as I realize I'm now one of those stupid girls from sugary chick-flicks - all the while, while they decide to give some asshole a second chance, you're mentally thinking about what idiots they are. Of course the guy is a man-whore who doesn't actually regret whatever it is they've done. Of course they're going to hurt the girl over and over again (until the surreal Good Guy comes along and they live happily ever after - it is a movie after all). But... I did say, in the beginning of this stupidly stupid post, that my whole thing with the Guy In Question was nothing like real life. In fact, our going out for more than the Deadly Three Times after meeting at a fucking club and his still wanting to call me after a whole year went by, despite how much I (righteously) yelled at him, is nothing like real life. I'd say it's the movie kind of thing, except I know it couldn't be. Because, like it or not, this is real life. Yes, I'm talking in circles. But my point is, he probably just wants me to go back to being a regular at his house again. Oh, to hell with men who are too young to live alone and do just because they're filthy rich enough to afford it. To hell with men who buy you presents and take you out to the best restaurants/clubs/bars and who pick you up in nice cars and take you home to spoil you with good wine and cheese on toast. Ughhh. I'm being a little shallow, hell yes. I like the idea of him, I think, not him per say. Okay, liar. I do like him. I miss him and that's why I got his FUCKING NUMBER again. Jklfajfa!

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I'm calling him . Right now. Thanks a lot, Magic 8 Ball. No matter how many shakes I give you, all you insist on telling me is 'you're totally screwed, but got no way out of it'. Now I see I should probably switch the Magic 8 Ball for a lucky charm of some sort. This will have to be a tiny last chance. I will not be lured into his too-much-like-the-movies-to-be-real world. I will be "Killer Queen" all over again if I have to. Fuck.

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