Tara Lipinski Liked My Video

I don't know about you all but my love for Instagram is directly related to my need for constant validation, immediate gratification and my girl crush obsessions that border on the 'Talented Mr. Ripley' level of creepy. 

I want to BE her. 

Or sometimes I just like the way she styles her hair. 

One or the other. 

My main use for my IG, other than sheer vanity, is to promote my Youtube channel and my Blog.

I even joined Vine to promote my Youtube. 

It's ResaStarXO if you haven't subscribed yet. Go. Do it. You know you want to!

Vine was at the suggestion of Ireland--the notorious lover-damn him & his ways-who moved away to Dublin & may or may not have had a girlfriend the whole summer he was making me moan his name.

Interestingly enough, Ireland is also the reason I met The Phantom of the Opera.

(You thought it was Tinder that brought us together but actually we'd met last summer--GASP!)

Anyway. I digress. What was I saying?

Oh yes. VINE. 

Vine was a great suggestion by the not as great Ireland because I could turn clips from my Youtube videos into vines & hopefully gain more subscribers that way. 

WELL.

You can also post those same 6 second vine videos on IG because you can fucking post videos everywhere!

SOooOoo....

Back to the title of this blog.

The wonderful thing about Instagram is that it connects all kinds of random people. 

I could do a search for #pinup and discover all kinds of kindred spirits- pinup obsessed girls around the world who share my love for pin curls & red lipstick. 

Or any of my other random interests-#mua #rockclimbing #sorrynotsorry #frozen

Whatever the hashtag was that brought the Olympic medalist to my page, one day I checked my notifications & saw that Tara Lipinski had 'liked' my photo. 

I looked at her account because I assumed it wasn't really THE Tara Lipinski. 

But sure enough, it was the real her. 

In the world of emoticons I was colon capital O.

Are you SERIOUS?!

Someone with 100K followers likes MY lil old picture?

I feel so freaking cool!!!

And THEN she liked several MORE pictures!

In the world of emoticons I was colon capital O add jazz hands Macaulay Culkin 'Home Alone' style. 

I feel cool when ANYbody likes my photos. 

But for it to be someone I watched win a gold medal on tv when we were both 15?

That's pretty fucking fantastic. 

I wondered if she might ever watch any of my Youtube videos or even subscribe to my channel. 

So I commented on one of her photos and asked if she'd had a chance to check out my channel. 

Later in the day she liked one of my Vine videos, one promoting my latest Youtube video.

Gah!

I was so excited!

I don't know if she ended up watching the actual video or any of my other videos. 

But I still felt like the Bee's Knees. 

And because life has a wicked sense of humor the vine she liked was for the video I made, 'I Don't Wanna Fuck Your Boyfriend', which was a response to all the STUPID drama that stemmed from Sheldon's psychotic girlfriend. 

Of course she watched the video and I found out from Sheldon she wasn't happy about it. 

In the world of emoticons, colon capital D.

And Sheldon tried to make me feel guilty for expressing my anger through one of my videos stating he "didn't like the way things were handled."

And that's fine. 

Because I didn't like being stalked and judged by someone who melodramatically told him she "wanted nothing to do with" me and "never wanted to talk to" me & blackmailed Sheldon into banishing me from ever playing Mariokart or eating food cart together "or else" she was going to dump him. 

I think that kind of emotional maturity deserves a video response where I call her an ugly bitch. 

I just didn't like the way she handled things.

SO.....

The fact that a STAR found my little clip of a little video worthy of an IG 'heart' when I'd been getting backlash from Sheldon & his prison ward felt poetic. 

It was validating on a totally different level. 

And that was awesome. 

Because my art is an expression of ME.

And if people don't accept it then we probably shouldn't be playing Mariokart together anyway. 

I'd rather play Mariokart with Tara.

THAT would be an awesome video. 

Dear Nioanna

That's what your boyfriend told me your name was when he first mentioned you. 

I heard him wrong and thought he said "Nioanna."

He let me go on thinking that was your name for weeks. 

Hahaha.

He's such an ass. 

I knew he loved you long before he ever told you. 

I was concerned about the relationship. 

Understandably so. 

The circumstances surrounding it were unusual, meeting online, thousands of miles apart from each other.

He already spends nearly all his time alone.

So having a relationship with a girlfriend he never saw made me worry his needs wouldn't be met. 

Quality Time is really important to him.

And I knew having none with you would be hard on him. 

The girl he dated after me rarely made time to see him. 

And it broke his nerdy heart. 

So one night hanging in his apartment, probably after playing Mariokart or eating food cart, I asked him what it was he liked about you. 

Now normally, asking him a personal question or even bringing up anything serious, would result in silence. 

When he doesn't want to talk about something he doesn't talk. 

It drives me bananas. 

But on this night, he opened up like some inspired poet. 

I always sass him, interrupt him, give him a hard time like he's my annoying little brother. 

But this time, I was so stunned by his overflow of words that I just sat there. 

Silent. 

I don't remember exactly what reasons he gave.

He liked how supportive you are.

He said you possessed some of the qualities he would find desirable in a partner. 

But whatever words he used to describe his feelings for you, it was the tone I heard. 

Love. 

The way he talked about you I realized he loved you. 

And that was when I knew I wanted to meet you. 

Because anyone that meant that much to my friend would be someone I'd want to know. 

That's how much I love my friend. 

As things progressed between you two, I remember one day he brought up that you'd talked about marriage. 

I remember driving home that night and feeling like him and I were really in a good place as friends, because I was genuinely happy for him. 

It was a little strange because years ago I thought I might want to marry him. 

But we'd grown a lot together over the last three years. 

And we had come to accept what we meant to each other and what we weren't. 

Around that same time, he came to a performance of mine. 

Two of my best friends went too and they each told me afterwards how they could see how much he cared for me and that he really was a good friend. 

Later he went out for drinks with us and when I had too much to drink my girlfriend said he helped take care of me. 

He talked about you with us and she said I must be important for him to share about his relationship. 

I was upset because this guy I really liked had been pushing me away. 

But he was supposedly going to see my show and I hoped we would work things out because I thought I could love him. 

Your boyfriend texted me after he left us that night and said, "I hope things work out for you."

It made me feel really loved. 

My girlfriend said she could see that we each wanted the other to be happy even if it wasn't with each other and that was a rare and wonderful thing. 

The friendship I've had with your boyfriend is a rare and wonderful one. 

So understandably when I found out you were coming to visit for several weeks I couldn't wait to meet you!

I wanted to tell you not to be nervous about meeting his family because his Mother was going to be so thrilled just to be a part of what was going on his life, she would love you. 

I wanted to tell you that one time when we were climbing and he couldn't get the dyno to save his life (he tried like, 6 or 7 times & failed) and then I yelled, cheering him on, "Do it for Nioanna!" (I actually did say your name right that time) and he DID it. 

I had taken a video of him making the climb and I told him he should text it to you. 

"Send her that and tell her you weren't able to do it until I said do it for her."

I thought it was really sweet. 

What we do for love. 

But of course he didn't share it with you. 

It's pretty clear he didn't share anything about me with you. 

So then you visit and although I ask several times he doesn't want me to meet you. 

Or you don't want to meet me. 

And I am super bummed because I'm happy for my friend and I wanted to share in his excitement. 

I told him he should tell you that he loves you because I knew he did. 

I was in support of you as soon as I realized he loved you. 

And so I don't get to see my friend for weeks. 

I was frustrated and my feelings were hurt but we made plans to meet to climb and grab dinner. 

I picked him up and as he walked to the car a smile stumbled on his lips. 

He never wants me to see how happy he is to see me but he was. 

We've been friends forever. 

I'm the Penny to his Sheldon. 

At dinner he shared with me about your visit. 

And I was happy to hear the visit went well. 

I was also happy to know that it wasn't personal that you didn't want to meet me but that it was probably just a little overwhelming because sometimes things overwhelmed you. 

And that was fine. 

I knew I'd meet you someday. 

I felt inspired by how much better I felt after talking to my friend that I chose to write a blog. 

The guy I was still hung up on still hadn't contacted me and I was furious about being ignored. 

I just wanted to know the truth. 

And I felt like my friend had given me the truth, so I deserved to hear it from this guy. 

So I wrote the blog out of frustration toward HIM. 

The only reason I shared any of what your boyfriend told me was to illustrate how important communication is. I certainly never thought in a million years that 1) You would ever read it or 2) That if you did read it you'd be so offended. 

I felt the things I wrote about you were very supportive. 

I called you his Amy Farrah Fowler and said you were a better match than I ever was. 

After I found out the blog had upset you I went back and reread it several times and couldn't figure out what it was you were so upset about. 

But your boyfriend asked me to remove the parts about you from the blog and I DID.

BUT THEN -I found out you gave my friend an ultimatum. 

You told him you'd break up with him unless he stopped being my friend. 

Because of a blog that was about the man I was still in love with and because I had "too many pictures" of your boyfriend. 

Whose my best friend. 

Who I've spent COUNTLESS HOURS with over the last three years. 

You hateful, judgemental bitch.

Your boyfriend HATES pictures. 

I have fought, since I met him, to try and get photos of him or with him where he wasn't frowning like he was constipated THE WHOLE TIME I'VE KNOWN HIM. 

But this year, for some miraculous reason, he had started actually taking decent photos with me. 

That is something I'd been fighting for YEARS to have!

Then you come along, with your psycho stalker obsession, and create some scenario in your head that it's improper of me to have photos with him, like How DARE She.

F U C K  Y O U.

I have been through HELL and back with this man. 

We have been there for each other through death and unemployment, he lived with me for months so he wouldn't be homeless, we've cried to each other and screamed at one another, and you're going to sit there, miles away on your fucking computer and decide you know who I am and the intentions of my heart when I wasn't even worth a fucking hour of your life to sip a beer with.

The amount of time you've spent pouring over my social media could have been spent talking to me face to face. 

And then NONE of this shit would have happened and I wouldn't have lost my best friend because he's scared shitless of surviving life alone. 

I have every right to express whatever I want, however I want. 

THAT'S THE POINT OF A BLOG, BITCH.

YOU'RE the one who chose to participate in it. 

Why the fuck were you stalking me in the first place?

Do you know your boyfriend has slept with countless women since we dated?

Are you gonna do a search on all those vaginas as well?

Your boyfriend meant the world to me. 

You're not even here to spend time with him. 

And being alone all the time isn't good for him. 

ASK HIM.

It makes him depressed. 

Why would you not want him to be around someone who adores and supports him when you're not even here to give him a fucking hug?

You think it's better he spend all his hours in his tiny apartment alone playing WOW waiting for texts from YOU?

SHAME on you. 

Shame on your selfishness, your insecurities, your hate and your judgment. 

You think so little of your boyfriend to believe he'd be close friends with someone if she wasn't worth his time?

YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM.

The longest you've spent TOGETHER is a few weeks. 

The longest we've been APART is a few weeks. 

For the last 41 months. 

Congratulations on removing the one person from your boyfriend's life who loves him as much as his Mother and who is the only person living close enough to be there for him if he needed anything in a heartbeat.

ANYTHING.

But a text from Italy is far more meaningful.

You know what's best. 

After all, you two have been through hell and back together. 

Oh wait. 

No you haven't. 

YET.

Sometimes You Gotta Be A Bitch

I have always believed that you should love your enemies.

Fight hate with love. 

Kill them with kindness. 

My favorite proverb says Loving your enemies is like heaping hot coals on their head. 

Makes me think that God has a sense of humor. 

Because there are some people who I would 

LOVE to heap hot coals on their head.

Or down their pants. 

You know. 

Whatever. 

Like, oh, let's just say for instance, The Phantom of the Opera. 

I had reconciled my feelings for him--the anger & the heartbreak, the confusion & the acceptance--and I was finally FINE.

Better than fine, I was GOOD.

I wasn't hurt anymore. 

I was content. 

Happy Little Pinup ready for her next adventure. 

I knew things would never be as they were or as I'd hoped them to be, but I knew I'd see him again and that he'd come to my show in August. 

And maybe we'd even be the kind of friends who saw each other every once in a blue moon. 

Pretty fucking loving of me considering how damn wishy washy he had been the last several months. 

So all was well. 

And then I HEARD from him again. 

I REALLY HATE it when men send me goodbye forever messages and then contact me again. 

One-You're losing credibility as a writer. (You fucking liar. 'Fare Thee Well,' my glorious arse.)

TWO-It is yet another way for you to be fucking inconsistent. 

I said I was smitten with you then I said I never wanted to see you again. 

Then I said I wanted to see you then I didn't wanna talk to you for two weeks. 

Then I said goodbye forever then I sent another fucking text. 

I don't MIND that he texted.  

Like I said, I figured we were gonna remain friends because we obviously cared about each other. 

(Obviously. Ha. The only thing obvious about the Phantom was that his pants were too tight.)

His text was rude. 

It was condescending and presumptive and totally unnecessary. 

I'd sent him a fucking SNAPCHAT (I knew that app was stupid) of me smiling on my run to send P O S I T I V I T Y his way because I'm a decent human being. 

And even though he's hardly texted me at all about anything for the last two months he felt the need to respond to a fucking snap and tell me that he didn't need me to smile for him. I should smile for myself. 

There was more to it than that, more self loathing & assumptions that because I sent him a selfie I must want to rush into his arms & stay there forever when there was "nothing to miss" & "I told you & meant it."

Ok.

OKAY.

First of all, I sent that selfie to my BROTHER. My DAD & my MO-THER.

They all had a normal response.

Things like, Aw, thanks for thinking of me.

You look adorable.

And Emoticons.

The Phantom, however, had to take a shit on my smiling face and make me feel like the weird bright spot on a baboons ass (What the fuck is that doing there??) just for THINKING OF HIM.

Ooh.

Was I fucking pissed. 

So you know what I did?

I let him have it. 

I had been so insanely, ridiculously, overwhelmingly kind & supportive & understanding despite the fact that I would have been justified in setting his dog on fire after the things he's done to me (Sorry, pup. No offense. Dog lovers, it's just a metaphor. Calm the fuck down.)

The problem with being loving is people think they can do or say ANYTHING and you'll ALWAYS be loving. 

Because you always have been.  

So I decided enough was enough. 

And I let out every vile and wicked HONEST thought that had been dancing in my mind since all of this started. 

I wasn't mean. 

I told the truth. 

And sometimes the truth is really fucking harsh when you've been setting the heart of a goddess on fire. 

I'm just as much of a poet as that fucker. 

And poetry doesn't always have to express love. 

I didn't sugar coat my words in hope or encouragement like he was used to. 

I showed him what a real bitch I could be. 

And it felt AMAZING. 

Because sometimes people don't deserve the Sunshine and rainbows and sparkly Unicorns version of me. 

They deserve the Fuck with me and see what Happens version. 

It felt like I FINALLY stood up to the monster who'd been trying to rape me of my joy.

Of course he didn't respond. 

What could he say?

You're right?

I'm sorry?

I have used you and not given a fuck?

It freed me. 

From the need to ever see him again. 

Or care if he sees me light up the stage this summer. 

I no longer give a fuck what he does. 

I only have room for Love in my life. 

And he can be haunted by the realization that I will never look at him with adoring eyes as I did the last time we saw each other. 

These eyes won't even SEE him. 

Love is Letting Your Friend be a Dumbass

There are times I wish I wasn't single. 

And then I get mixed up in someone else's dysfunctional  relationship and I think--

I am so fucking thankful I'm not dealing with THAT.

My friend is dating a wackadoo. 

Don't get me wrong I'M fucking crazy. 

But it's a real eye opener when I encounter another female who makes me look catatonic by comparison. 

I went to Vegas once with a girlfriend and  her friends were all so insanely insane that I was the wallflower of the group. 

ME!!

Can you fucking imagine?

I felt like I was in an episode of the Twighlight Zone. 

It was so bizarre I couldn't handle it. 

I'M THE LOUD OBNOXIOUS ONE, PEOPLE!!!

I've heard stories from girlfriends dating controlling men who forbid them from seeing certain friends or from doing certain activities. 

But this is the first time in my life I've known of a controlling WOMAN forbidding her boyfriend from seeing his friend. 

If there was any doubt he certainly loves his wackadoo (that sounds like a euphemism for his penis--Teehee! Penis!) because only LOVE would make somebody stupid enough to agree to such a request. 

I don't really blame him because I know love has made me blind to blaringly obvious red flags. 

(SEE It's unhealthy when your girlfriend wants you to have no friends except for her.)

But everyone is free to make their own choices. 

(Even if it's the wrong choice.)

Just as I am free to write about whatever the fuck I want. 

Like, I retract my previous statement that my friend, Sheldon, found his Amy Farrah Fowler. 

Amy was never threatened by Penny's rocking body or afraid that Sheldon would trip and land penis first inside her. Amy never felt the need to banish Penny from their tiny circle of friends. 

No, this dear nut bar is like the crazy undergrad student that wouldn't let Sheldon do anything with anyone except work with her by his side. 

Mean Mommies are definitely the sexy sirens all men dream of marrying. 

I said you can't play with him anymore! His Mommy wears low cut shirts and uses words like 'orgasmic!' I don't want you around someone like THAT!

Eventually, because Sheldon is a smart man, he will realize he doesn't want to spend his entire life with an immature little girl who doesn't believe in giving him the freedom or respect to be who he really is and have the people who matter to him in his life. 

I love my friend enough to let him make his own mistakes. 

Because I RESPECT his choices.

Unlike the Wackadoo of Wackylvania.

Hey, we all make stupid choices. 

I thought I was supposed to get back together with Sheldon after I broke up with him all those years ago. 

And I was fucking mistaken. 

But I had to figure that out myself. 

No one could tell me otherwise because I was convinced we were meant to be. 

But we weren't.

And I want Sheldon to end up with his Amy Farrah Fowler. 

He just has to realize he hasn't found her yet. 

Because the real Amy will trust Sheldon. 

Not try to control and isolate him. 

And when he does, when Sheldon figures it out, we will go to Santeria and laugh about it, like we do over all the wrong people we date. 

Because there have been a lot. 

For both of us. 

And we've both been there through all of it. 

I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. 

I've been there for Sheldon for years, we've been through so much together. 

And this, THIS shit is not going to destroy all that. 

I know that. 

And he does too. 

I  T R U S T  H I M.

'Fare Thee Well', Phantom of the Opera

Apparently people are reading my blog.

I woke up this morning and one of my cousins I never talk to commented on my link for my latest blog post just to say he loves me. 

It fucking made my day. 

I'm wondering if someone else stumbled across my blog as well. 

Because for not contacting me for two weeks it certainly seemed quite the coincidence for him to suddenly text me the day I posted 'Say Something, Bitch.'

The Bitch, in question did in fact speak. 

To say Adieu. 

Or rather-

Fare Thee Well.

I actually looked that expression up. 

Yes. 

I googled 'Fare Thee Well.'

(Actually, I googled FAIR Thee Well because I thought he misspelled it. He had not. I kind of hate it when people are more literate than I am. And it's also really fucking sexy. Damn him.)

The funny thing about that expression, and yes, I knew what the fuck it means but I think I wanted context of its true definition since my Phantom of the Opera was a bit of a poet. 

(A musician. Who disappears. Whose face is broken. Who loves from afar. A fucking brilliant nickname. Thank you for the suggestion, Puppet.)

If you look up Fare Thee Well (Google corrected my spelling mistake. Shut up.)

It is not only a goodbye, it also means "to perfection; thoroughly."

Which seemed bloody brilliant to use as a Perfect Goodbye. 

He also began and ended his farewell paragraph with my name. 

And the most indeterminate sentence even rhymed. 

Love isn't dead, but my chivalry has been writhing in its death bed.

He is a fucking poet. 

He also waited two weeks to send me any of his poetry.

Which would be well worth the long tedious hours should the poetry be delivered by horseback on a scroll. 

But since we all have our handy dandy apple smart devices of crack there's really no reason his thumbs couldn't punch out a rhyming couplet.

He just wanted to fucking withhold. 

Sex appeal: -3000

BUT-

But. 

I  D I D  finally hear from him. 

And while it wasn't what I wanted to hear, hearing it has actually made me feel leaps and bounds better. 

I think men think we WANT to pine for them. 

Or maybe they fear the rage they will receive upon the delivery of An End.

But my God, Truth is intoxicatingly wonderful. 

I get off on it. 

That's what always baffles me when people seem offended by my direct truthfulness. 

I'll say what I think or ask for what I want and men--I'm sorry, BOYS--will be all, Woah.

Too much.

You're TOO much.

I went on a date once just because I was pissed off at the guy I'd started seeing and I was in such a foul mood I actually said to the date within the first five minutes of sitting down, "I don't give a fuck if you like me or not."

And the motherfucker thought that was so hot!

If only I'd dated him instead of the idiot I made up with. 

He was probably one of the 37 men in existence who could handle me. 

C'est la vie. 

I'd love to know what my life would be like if I'd made little decisions like that differently. 

Like The Phantom of the Opera?

I met 9 months ago on a different date. 

I'd love to know what would have happened between us if I'd told him I thought he was a doll then instead of two months ago days before his life imploded into what he will probably fondly look back on as one of the worst years of his life. 

One day they will turn those choose your own ending books into a time traveling reality. 

And I can go back and kiss the men I wish I would have and smack the boys I wish I hadn't. 

The Phantom felt reminiscent of two tragic relationships of my past--Mr. Volcano and Prince Charming. 

Because all three, repeatedly said Goodbye but always ended up finding their way back to me, only to say goodbye again. 

They all seemed like somewhat shy men and yet hidden within that feigned introvert was a severe sadistic dom who wanted to exert his control over our stories ending. 

Apparently I am a masochistic sub who is into that otherwise why the fuck would it keep happening?

Choose your own ending:

How bout the one that tortures you and leaves you feeling wildly unsatisfied.  

Good one, Reese.

It's disappointing when you feel the unoriginality of your own life. 

I want something different, dammit. 

Some super tatted up monster bearded hottie knows my climbing buddy and I was like, "Dude. Introduce me."

'Him?' He asked surprised. 

Yes fucking him. 

He is nothing like the men I date. 

But tall, lanky, artistic, brooding, withholding, unavailable 6'4" men refuse to FUCK ME. 

So maybe this hipster of Portlandia will.

Bring on the fucks. 

I swear to God I'm done waiting for the man I love to get his shit together before he can love me back. 

Leave me the fuck alone if you're a fucking mess in the first place. 

Don't tell me you've been dreaming about me. 

I give no fucks for your blatant fawning. 

SHOW ME.

Or leave me in the arms of another. 

Huzzah.

Say Something, Bitch

Men who don't communicate should be castrated.

S L O W L Y.

I have zero patience for withholders.

You have a mouth. 

USE IT.

If you've forgotten how to speak just pretend your face is between my legs. 

You manage to use your mouth just fine down there. 

Not communicating is a way of withholding. 

Which is a super manipulative way for men to feel in control when--Oh gee, I don't know--most of the shit in their lives they have no control over. 

But isn't it grand to feel in control over the buxom redhead who thinks she likes you?

Fuck off. 

And it's not just ex lover Mangina's who don't communicate. 

ALL MEN run the potential risk of forgetting how to use their tongues. 

One of my closest friends is Sheldon.

And my dear friend Sheldon has found his Amy Farrah Fowler.

(If you haven't seen 'Big Bang Theory' then I really don't know how we can be friends.)

Amy, however, is not someone Sheldon met at a comic book convention in Portlandia.

No, Sheldon and Amy met on Okstupid.

And she lived in Italy.
Leave it to Sheldon to need to search another country to find a girl suitable to date.
They found each other doing a word search for Physics.
It was nerd heaven.

So understandably, when she came for an extended visit I wanted to meet her.

Years ago I was head over heels in love with Sheldon.
And I was dying of curiosity over this new nerdtastic love of his life.

Only to my frown face, he wasn't going to let me meet her.
"It's up to her who she does or doesn't want to meet."

Wha-Bu-I---HOW RUDE!
Do you know who I am??

My feelings were soon hurt.
I've known Sheldon nearly four years now and I'm his closest friend.
How could he not want me to meet his girlfriend?
Or rather, how could he not want his girlfriend to know ME??
HeLLoOoOO!

I was so upset I told him he was a big fat meanie face and we didn't see each other the whole time she was here.
I went climbing with Sheldon this week and he told me about her visit.
He introduced her to his parents and she apparently was really nervous about it.
Like, super anxiety ridden stressed.
It was Sheldon's Mother's birthday so Amy wanted to get her a birthday card.

"It took her no less than two hours for her to choose a card," he said. "We had to go to so many places. And then she didn't know what to write in the card. She googled traditional American birthday greetings."

And as he continued to share with me her nervousness and how meeting the family ended up going fine, I stopped feeling hurt that I didn't get to meet her.
Because if she was the type of person to have anxiety over a happy birthday card then meeting me would have been even more stressful.
And I went from wanting to punch Sheldon in the balls to being content hearing his stories.

Because he COMMUNICATED. 

Because I found out the TRUTH of the circumstances instead of being left to my imagination. 

What a fucking concept. 

The thing most men don't understand is that we really are simple creatures. 

We goddesses of femininity. 

We don't need the moon. 

We just need to know what the fuck is going on. 

And then we are more understanding than they know 

But the silence?

The withholding incurs my wrath. 

And then I want nothing more to do with you. 

EVER.

Au revoir.

The Disappearing Boy

I heard from The Best First Date Ever.

For those of you just tuning in, things ended abruptly over an arbitrary misunderstanding (SEE Do You or Do You Not Want to Fuck Me).

So that was The End to our Happily Ever After. 

I crawled under a weeping Out of Towner at a seedy motel to get over it. 

(Which prompted me to then choose my vibrator over any date for the next several weeks.) 

But apparently our tragic love story wasn't over because a week after dramatically ending things, I heard from him. 

He'd been attacked and was being hospitalized.

Traumatic brain injury. 

Dental reconstructive surgery. 

Part of his tongue was missing. 

Holy Fucking Shit. 

I still don't know how or what happened. 

All I know is that he was in bad shape and understandably didn't want any visitors. 

It didn't change anything between us but I guess he wanted me to know what had happened. 

Again I didn't hear from him for several weeks and wondered if I ever would. 

Cut to a week ago. 

And he texts me and then calls me. 

And he wants to SEE me.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" He asks. 

It's nearly midnight and I feel like I must be dreaming because I haven't seen him in a month (longer?) and suddenly out of the blue he wants to see me. 

He apologizes for being distant and the way he talks to me, the tone, the affection he expresses reminds me of that first week we started dating. 

It's all going to be ok, I think to myself. 

He's finally letting me in. 

But of course I don't end up seeing him the next day. 

My life is not a romantic comedy. 

My life is a modern day tragedy. 

He does at least call and let me know that he ended up at the hospital again and was there most of the day. 

"I guess I'm not ready to be a human after all," he tells me. 

And that's totally ok because at least we're talking to each other again and if I can't see him for awhile I understand. 

We know we care about each other and that's what matters. 

Right?

Except then I don't hear from him. 

At all. 

AGAIN. 

Nine days and counting. 

I did, however, get an emoticon from him a few days ago because I sent a text that was basically like I'm worried you're still alive could you please at least send me an emoticon.

So he sent me an emoticon. 

But that was it.

I have no idea what's going on.

I don't know anything. 

I've expressed concern, and worry, I've enquired as to why he talked to me a week ago but now wasn't communicating at all. 

But nothing. 

Not one sentence. 

And part of me doesn't even believe that phone conversation actually happened. 

Because how can a man say he just wants to make you happy and then lay there reading snap chat messages and refuse to send one fucking text my way?

It's been this let me in push me away let me in cut me out merry go round from hell dance and I can't fucking take it anymore. 

Because I deserve a fucking explanation.

Hell I deserve communication. 

My one night stand weeping motel sex communicated more with me after our sad sex than him. 

That's fucked up.  

I was so happy just hearing from him, just knowing he was alive and he didn't think badly of me. 

And that was enough. 

I could have been content with that. 

But no.

He had to call. 

He had to ask to see me. 

He led me to believe I mattered enough to be let in to his world. 

"You can come over and we can watch a movie and cuddle," he'd said.

And relationships really are as simple as that. 

All we need is a little time together, a hug, the chance to be there for each other when we're hurting. 

But I never saw him. 

There was no hug. No cuddle. 

There wasn't even a fucking text. 

I'm so hurt and angry and confused. 

And how can I not take it personally when a man wants to see me and then suddenly won't bother to contact me at all?

His hands work and he has his phone. 

He is choosing of his own free will to ignore me. 

And ignoring me is like, the greatest offense in the history of ever. 

He might as well write FUCK YOU RESA and have flyers made and make vines about it because that's what blowing me off feels like. 

My heart is drained of all sympathy and I just want to erase his number and forget everything that's ever happened. 

But you know he'll contact me again. 

Right when I'm on the verge of forgetting what he looked like. 

Because men are assholes like that. 

If it wasn't for their dicks I wouldn't even talk to them.