Ha.
One thing.
You know I'm gonna say a lot of fucking things.
But that one thing is, that going through that shit with Sheldon and his future ex wife really lit a fire in my soul about what I will and will not put up with.
From this day forward I have ZERO tolerance for bullshit.
The days of being a nice girl who settles for what she gets are fucking over.
I had TWO men this week, not one but two, reveal to me their bullshit mentalities and in both instances I said, Buh Bye.
Bullshit One-The Phantom.
Yes.
It was very lovely that he called to say such swell things out of fucking nowhere.
Was it?
The point of which was.......waving a white flag?
This is my problem with tokenism.
When he got off the phone with me he was meeting his friends for brunch.
He was meeting his FRIENDS.
His actual friends.
The people who mattered enough to spend time with.
Do you know how many weeks I'd been asking to see him?
How many weeks I'd practically BEGGED to see him because I was so worried about him because he nearly died and because I desperately needed closure?
TWELVE.
Twelve mother fucking weeks.
T-W-E-L-V-UH!!
The mother fucker is up and at 'em, out of his death bed, pep in his step, back in the classroom and his beloved work place and he has time to spend with his real friends.
And time to give ME a Phone. Call.
It was a grand gesture.
I'll give him that.
But the PROBLEM with his gesture, like every interaction we've ever had together is that it's merely words.
Words. Upon words. And words. And more fucking perfect poetic words.
But No ACTION.
Never.
None.
Judge a man by his actions and his actions said I meant N O T H I N G to him.
Do you think he made time to see me that week after that phone call?
Of course not.
Why would he?
He'd offered his blatant fawning & flattery and that was ALL I'd ever been worth.
When he called me last month it was praise upon compliment upon poetry any woman would dream of hearing.
But then did he follow through on that as he promised?
FUCK NO.
I not only didn't SEE him, like he said, I DIDN'T EVEN HEAR FROM HIM FOR TWO WEEKS!!
So I gave it some good long real hard thinkin' and came to one stubbornly resolute conclusion:
He doesn't get to be my friend.
We aren't friends.
He is a horrible friend.
One of my favorite theatre professors said once, Don't let what others choose to do influence what YOU do.
And it was a lovely gesture on his part to send positive words my direction.
But it did not mean I needed to suddenly let this inconsistent, chaotic force back into my life, whose only behavior has shown me that he never means what he says.
And he never does what he says he will.
One week before his outpour?
He texted me that he needed space and the context was pretty much, Take a fucking hint, woman.
I'm not exaggerating.
It was harsh as fuck.
So No.
There will be no frolicking in the rose garden, no catching up over the last twelve fucking weeks.
He wanted space.
Well he was gonna fucking get space.
He never even knew me because he Never. Made. Time for me.
If I was really his friend he would have made time to see me right away.
It would have been important to him.
And he certainly would have responded to my question of what prompted him to call me in the first place.
But he never texted back.
He never answered what should have been an easy question.
And I was tired of this boring game he was playing.
The second gentleman I bid adieu to this week was the date I was supposed to meet for round two of debauchery last night.
Truthfully?
I wasn't expecting a second encounter.
But he'd been determined in texts to cross our paths again and nothing is more flattering than a man who is determined.
And who backs up that determination with what he DOES and doesn't just compare my beauty to a summer's day.
So he tried to make tentative plans with me for Saturday but since rehearsal started and I don't have as many free eves, I'm certainly not going to pass on other dates for a guy who "yeah probably I think so" wants to meet.
So I told him I'd make other plans if he wasn't sure and he said no let's meet.
Ok.
Cool.
We're on the same page.
There was just one problem.
We didn't pick a PLACE.
I go into the city a lot but I don't live there.
I'm about thirty minutes away from Portlandia.
So if I'm meeting someone there I need to know where I'm going.
And I didn't hear from him ALL. DAY.
I had said if he wasn't sure he could meet that I'd make other plans.
But I didn't make other plans because he said we would meet.
And then I was that girl waiting to hear from him.
Oh, heeeeeeell no.
Hey, Mother Fucker.
Do you know how many invitations I had this weekend that I turned down for YOU?
You're short.
And you know what else is short?
Yeah.
You do.
So you're really not in the position to be acting like a dick because the only men who can get away with that kind of behavior are gorgeous and twice your size.
And size.
And yes, he did finally text me, after when we'd agreed to meet, like I was supposed to go running to him, loyal dog that I was.
Look.
Casual sex is great.
Booty calls are awesome.
But then I'll plan another date with someone else and maybe call you if I don't want to go home with HIM.
Don't waste my fucking time.
A N Y O F Y O U.
I will choose my vibrator and a bottle of pink moscato over this shit any day.
No one puts Resa in the corner.
I'M THE FUCKING STAR.
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