Why I Don't Hate (and Kinda Like) the Math Teacher

So maybe he doesn't sound like the greatest guy. But then again, you don't know the whole story...

Sunday

After having been dumped by Fuckface, sad and upset and drunk, and blowing off some mad steam, I hooked up with the Math Teacher. It was my decision. I stand by it. He seemed like a nice, fun, harmless guy in my group of friends. He told me I was beautiful and sexy about five million times. Super validating. When I decided it was time for me to leave, he wanted me to stay. But I wanted to go. He walked me down to the street and put me in a cab. And texted me to make sure I got home safe.

Wednesday

When out with all our mutual friends, he didn't act like anything had happened. He didn't kiss and tell. He said nothing. That - while should be the way people always are with personal, private matters such as these - is not the way they often are. He didn't brag. He didn't try to get more out of me. We talked like friends. We laughed about Sunday. We walked down the street together at the end of the night. I got in a cab. I went home.

Friday

Out for a friend's birthday two days later, the whole gang went crazy all over town. We drank and danced. I was too drunk (again) and tired and sad. I made out with the Math Teacher half the night. And danced with him. At the end of the night, I said I wouldn't go home with him. I told him - I'm tired. And I'm sad. "I don't want to hook up with you." "That's okay," he said. "Come over anyways...I'll take care of you." And he did. I went over and nothing happened. Not even more kissing. He held me ALL night. ALL night. I don't think Fuckface ever did that. He was always too hot or too tired or couldn't get comfortable. In the morning he made me breakfast and we watched a movie. A "Rock" movie. Random. He walked me down to the street again so we could get a cab. "Maybe we should go on a date?" he asked. I thought this a really weird, unlikely turn of events. "Sure," I had said. What did I have to lose? What else did I have to do?

Wednesday

He took me to Founding Farmers for dinner. The conversation was random and funny and good. He paid. I had a moment in the restroom where I was looking in the mirror and for the first time in awhile now, I was having fun. I felt good about myself again. We had the lamest, worst peck of a kiss outside a cab and I went home alone.

Sunday

He hadn't called. Or texted. Or emailed. Oh well, I had thought. I guess he didn't like me. It doesn't really matter, because I didn't like him. Not really. I mean, I don't even know him. And I'm a heartbroken trainwreck. We'll just be friends. No biggie. But I saw him out, with all my friends again. He was attentive. He asked me if I wanted to go bowling the next week. I said: "You wanna go out with me again?" "Why wouldn't I?" he asked incredulously. "Didn't we have fun?" "Yes. We did." I said back. And that is true. We really did - have a good time. "But you didn't call me," I said casually. "OH," he said for a moment. "Well I knew I'd see you here." "That's not good enough," I said. "You have to call or text after a date." "I'm an idiot," he said. "I can text you. I'll text you all the time." "Alright, we'll go bowling," I agreed.

Monday-Friday

He texted me. A lot. Every day. All day. About nothing in particular.

Friday

I blew him off for bowling. I was too tired and depressed in reality. I told him I was sick.

Saturday-Tuesday

He texted me all day every day. Asking me how I was feeling. What symptoms I was having. Was I eating anything? Tuesday he rescheduled our date. Instead of bowling we had dinner.

Thursday

Dinner at Darlington House in Dupont. Again he paid. Again the conversation was good. We went back to his place and watched some tv and made out a little. Nothing major. I told him that I thought he had the wrong idea about me. Because our first encounter was so casual. And that on top of that I was a mess and just broke up with someone and didn't know if I was able to really do anything with him. He said he didn't expect anything. "But I'm a mess!" I urged him to comprehend. "You are kind of a mess," he said. "I'm not fun right now," I said. "Let me decide what is fun," he said.

Saturday

He told me he stopped seeing another girl (a girl I knew he was also seeing, I just didn't care) because he wanted to be with me. I told him he didn't have to do that. That I hadn't asked him to do that. That we weren't ANYTHING. That we were "cool." "I don't wanna be cool," he said. "But we are," I simply repeated again.

Sunday

I was hanging out with our mutual friends. "What's going on with you and the Math Teacher?" one mutual guy friend wanted to know. "I don't know. Nothing," I said. "You hang out all the time," the friend came back at me with curiosity... "He actually likes you. He's just worried about being the rebound guy." "But he IS the rebound guy. Isn't he?"

Tuesday

We rescheduled our bowling date for Friday night.

Friday

Tomorrow night we're going bowling.

In short, I don't know why everyone reading this blog hates him so much. Yeah we hooked up. Maybe that was lame of him. Yeah I'm sad and depressed and often drunk and maybe not ready to date. But I was honest with him. And you know what - we've been SORTA hanging out/dating for 5 weeks. 5 weeks! And I haven't done anything but 13 year old PG kissing since that first night. And he's still dating me?????!!!!! Maybe I'm the greatest hookup he's ever had in his life and he MUST HAVE A REPEAT OR DIE (which I find really unlikely) or maybe he likes me??? I don't know guys. What I do know is:

I don't give a shit. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tried of having no fun. He is fun. And funny. And nice. And a distraction. And treats me WELL ENOUGH. And did I mention he was TALL and HOT???

So there you go...don't hate on the Math Teacher. Because I don't.

Cheers,

T

Why I Hate the Math Teacher

WHY I HATE THE MATH TEACHER

GUEST POST BY ANDY WHITE

*@andywhitedc is a DC resident, author and social media manager. His first guest post depicting yet another bad date and entitled "The Layers" can be found here. His second and third posts, also about a bad date (see any patterns here hmm??) "Muted Lights, Small City" and Two's Company, Four's a Bitch can be found here and here. In case it wasn't obvious from the entry's title, Andy doesn't like the new guy I've been dating. It's not serious, I'm completely on the rebound and I don't even treat him well. So I'm not sure why Andy's so against him but here are his thoughts on Mr. H anyhow...

Why 'the teacher' is everything that is wrong with men in today's society:

I recently posted a comment that indicated my dislike for 'the teacher' in succinct and somewhat blunt terms. A 'Heather' responded indicating a desire to see this blown out into something more substantial Heather, this is for you:

The teacher represents a crawling manifestation of everything we seek to avoid as we traipse through the human experience. At first, and in small doses, this man is amenable and sometimes even affable. He is at the outer extremities of your group, the type of rogue with whom you would never hang out 1 one 1, but he's always there, always looking. Angular and awkward in construction, there's a sharp movement in his step, as though always ready to slip his hand somewhere unwanted.

He will go for the weak and the vulnerable. Recently broken up, emotionally damaged, desperate for affirmation of their beauty; that they are thin, that they can get over it, that they do actually like giving head, really, truly. That's his specialty, that's his wheelhouse.

In this particular instance our villain knew of the pain dear MM was going through. This was out in the open and it was clear and it was very true. He sat there, he said the right things, he put a consoling hand on a damaged knee. He saw a girl that was at her very lowest ebb, a girl that needed an arm, a hug, words in her ear to let her know everything will be alright. Really. She was desperate for someone to push $20 into the hand of a cabbie and send her home. She was desperate for someone to care, for someone selfless, for someone who didn't think with his vile wick.

He was none of those things. He was her worst nightmare that night.

Lest we forget the group of friends that were present that evening, and I for one will never forgive, never forget. They saw first-hand his moves, his lines, his darting tongue and thin words. They could have surrounded MM like on the Serengeti and ushered him back to the dark visages of his mind, from where he came and where he will ultimately return. But they didn't. They were complicate. They pushed MM into the waiting clutches of a man designed to suck the life out of those around him because he knows of nothing but pain.

That's probably why I hate 'the teacher' and everything he represents. Scum.

The Math Teacher - Part 1

A mutual friend - "He actually likes you."

Me - "He does?"

The mutual friend - "Yes he does. He's just afraid of being the rebound guy."

Me - "But he is the rebound guy."

Friend - "Sometimes a rebound guy becomes a not-a-rebound guy."

Me - "But, I'm a mess."

Friend - "You are kind of a mess."

To Date or Not to Date - Part 2

What did I decide to do? Drum roll please....

Not to Date.

Fail.

Anyways, I sent the Math Teacher a text message around 2pm (about 6 hours before our date) on a Friday night stating the following: "Hey, hope you are having a great day. I hate to cancel on you late notice but I'm totally exhausted and not feeling great and so I'd rather reschedule."

What did I do instead? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. I was completely lame. And boring. And, well, lame. I wore sweatpants, ate pasta and drank wine. I am not proud of this fact, but it is what it is. I also watched 10 episodes of a British miniseries on Netflix. Which makes me quadruple-ey lame. I know.

At any rate, I had to work again on Saturday from 9-6. I came home and did NOTHING yet again. And then Sunday I had a long day of taking care of the MOM with brunch (it was FANTASTIC at 701 outside overlooking the National Archives building and the Navy memorial equipped with fountains and a temporary ALS association art/advocacy exhibit Piece by Piece which is AMAZING!!!!) and then the National Portrait Gallery and then shopping at Macy's. (i got a bright blue dress that is killer!) But I digress...Back at work bright and early this Monday morning I still feel tired. So I think I made the right decision. If only for my physical, emotional and mental well being. I am - to say the least - worn out. Worn out because of this breakup, my job, my life, being me. Depressing no? I'm thinking of planning a ridiculously extravagant vacation for 3 months from now when this hellish project I'm currently working on is over.

Anyways, you don't care about my troubles do you? What you really want to know is - how did the Math Teacher respond? And let me tell you...he was soooooooo nice. So freaking nice.

Here's what he said: "Don't worry about it. Everyone feels bad sometime. We'll try something when you feel better and more up to it."

Soooo nice right? He proceeded to text me several times on Saturday and then most of the day on Sunday. Saturday: "How are you feeling today?" I admitted I was pretty much bumming around the house watching youtube videos and other random stuff online and catching up on The Wire from the beginning via Netflix. I mentioned the Jimmy Fallon video parodying Charlie Sheen and the Steven Colbert and Jimmy Fallon performance of "Friday." And a bunch of other stuff. And you know what he did? He watched them. Every thing I said I thought was funny - he'd go and watch it and report back. Not like that's hard or anything but - he actually listens to me- and engages. He doesn't get a medal, but he gets props. That's all I'm saying.

Sunday he was out with all our friends and they had a few too many drinks. Yet he still texted me to check in and chat every half hour or so. Finally, one of our friends got mad at him for being on his phone instead of paying attention to the group. They didn't know he was talking to me.

"So stop texting me!" I urged him. "I don't want to stop texting," he told me. "So what are you up to now?"

And its official - I'm still in love with David. This whole thing still sucks. I'm still a sad, moody, hot mess. But I also like the Math Teacher. And I also want to date him.

Unfortunately, my last minute cancellation has confused him a bit. He asked our mutual friend T (a very good girl friend of mine) to help him "figure me out." Oy vey!

But what is there to figure out? He asked me out, I went out with him. We had fun. He asked me out again, and while I did cancel (because I honestly said I didn't feel well), why can't we just go out again (rescheduled) and see what happens?

Why must we, in the beginning, know exactly what's going on, what's happening or figure someone out? Why must I be a 100% over my last boyfriend? Why must I be anything at all? Why can't I just exist and see what happens?

So there you have it friends. I like the Math Teacher. And maybe, just maybe, he likes me...even if I am quadruple lame. I guess we'll see.

Happy Monday and Cheers,
T

To Date or Not to Date

That is the question. Because I'm supposed to go out tonight. On another date with the Math Teacher. Bowling.

In theory, I want to go out on another date with the Math Teacher. But in reality I have NO INTEREST IN GOING OUT TONIGHT. OR BOWLING.

My whole body aches. Everywhere. My back, neck, shoulders. My face. My eyes behind the eyes. My quads. My hamstrings. The soles of my feet. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I work too much. (Well I KNOW I work too much - I even work a full day Saturdays so a six day week). Maybe I'm getting the flu (some of my coworkers were out sick this week and my mom has also been afflicted). Or maybe I'm just depressed. Two run-ins with the ex (yes I DID run into him AGAIN on my way to work yesterday. More on that some other time maybe...) in the last five days and its just too much. It's all too much. Or maybe I'm just dehydrated and need a glass of water? Who knows...

I told my coworker I wanted to cancel. I told her I feel like shit and I'm exhausted and we have to work all day tomorrow too! And then Sunday I'm spending the whole day with my mom for Mother's Day doing fun stuff she likes like an early morning walk outside, documentary movies, art exhibits, brunch etc.

My coworker was kinda mean to me in response to my lack of luster for living it up. She said: "What are you gonna do then? Go home and put on your sweatpants and watch TV?"

I said: "Um, yes. Exactly. And drink wine." (Don't try to tell me that's not bliss). The truth is: I wanna be alone. I don't feel like myself. And its even MORE exhausting and stressful trying to PRETEND to be me. The me everyone likes. The fun, bubbly, nice person that I just am not embodying right now. Because right now I am angry and tired and bitter and sad and exhausted and stressed and lost.

But I know how shitty it is to cancel on someone. Especially if they cleared their schedule to hang with you and therefore didn't make other Friday night plans. And then maybe he won't ask me out again. And I DO want to see if something is there with the Math Teacher. He IS a nice, interesting, cool guy. But I DON'T want to see if something is there tonight. Though I don't want to blow him off or hurt his feelings or give him the wrong impression.

I don't know. Ugh. I'd said TGIF. But I work Saturdays. Fuck my life. Just fuck it.

Tell me what to do lovely readership. You decide. And I will listen. You always say the right things. Which is why I write to you out into the abyss. I get more out of it, then you do. I'm sure.

Tired, tired T.

Men Love Bitches and Crazies - Part 2

Since you guys seemed to enjoy PART 1 of this story with the crazy bitch and her basket...I'd figure I'd give you just a little more on it. Here was my actual emailed response to my friend Chris upon hearing his story of putting up with this bullshit...

"That seriously is the most craziest fucked up story i've ever heard. I don't care how hot or how fun or how good of a lay she is, I don't know how a good person like yourself could be around as BAD A PERSON as that. Who treats people like that? Who thinks its ok to treat people like that?

You are doing the entire universe of people a DISFAVOR by continuing to allow hot women to be total and completely self-centered, entitled bitches and let them think they can get away with it so they continue again and again to act this way and treat people this way. INCONSIDERATE RUDE PEOPLE are a waste of space on this earth. And it makes me sick guys put up with it.

I've been trying to think of a way to respond to this email that wasn't all fired up and opinionated and annoyed but I just cant. You are my friend. This girl sounds like she sucks. You are a good person. K and V and I are good people. This girl is not.

Honestly. How many women are there in NYC? At least 1/3rd of the hot ones have to have a single neuron of intelligence in their brain and a bit of decency in their hearts. FUCK THEM. DATE THEM.

Ugh. I'm vaclemped! (spelling?)

T

P.S. this story IS FUCKING HILARIOUS THOUGH. UNBELIAVABLY HILARIOUS."


TO WHICH HE REPLIED...

"Haha. I made her pick up the basket! If she hadn't picked up the
basket, I would have said, 'Peace Out!' Our latest conversations involve how many free meals (as in me cooking exclusively) she thinks she can get away with based on her looks and pouting.. Haha. I'm setting the girl straight!"


I GIVE UP.

Men Like Bitches and Crazies

I used to feel like it was my fault that I was single. Was I too pretty? Not pretty enough? Not well dressed? Not thin enough or fit enough or tan enough or quiet enough or sweet enough or aloof enough. But my latest relationship, where I genuinely believe the Ex before, then and now thinks I am what he says I am: "Truly excellent. Smart and beautiful. Kind and generous." Because you know what? I. am. Period. Men just happen to like high maintenance, crazy bitches. And I for one, regardless of any "game" I'm supposed to play, don't want to be high maintenance, crazy, or bitchy. Because, frankly, that wouldn't be fun for me. And my quality of life, throughout my life, would suffer. For myself. Personally. So why would I change?

Case in point...my friend Chris who lives outside the DMV, dated a super cute, seemingly nice, friendly, normal girl for a year or so. They broke up and it was rough. But now...it seems as though he is dating every hot lunatic that ever broke out of a mental hospital. Seriously. And treats them well. And puts up with their shit. And I just don't get it. Do you? Let me relay one of his tales - of some psycho tail - so you know what I'm talking about...

"Haha. New chick and I almost had a fight in the street near my apt. yesterday early evening. Love it.

She had been drinking all day w/ other friends and was wasted. I proposed meeting up and drinking/picnic in the Park early evening yesterday. Met her at a place where she had met up w/ friend bartender at a really nice restaurant there. Went up for a drink, ended up having two. (And then she proposed shots which I rejected.) Ended up not doing picnic - and I even had my picnic basket, blanket, sweatshirt (for her) and wine with me. Offered to make dinner instead. Took cab up to grocery store near me. Bought groceries for dinner. Now had basket and two bags of groceries. I have basket - she has groceries.

Half a block from store she starts to complain about weight of groceries, so we switch. Walks 10ft and complains about basket now. Puts basket on sidewalk and walks without it. I stop and like, "You've got to be kidding me.." And she keeps walking so I tell her to come back and get basket, refuse to pick it up. Tell her to finally come back and pick up the f'n basket and she does.
Haha.

Only child urban primadonna. And she's self-admitted she needs a lot of attention. Got to love it. But dinner went well. Had to share w/ someone. Hope everything is well with you."

WTF????

Just WHAT. the. FUCK.

Do you have any explanation? Because I sure dont...

Cheers,

T

THE BREAKUP: PART TWO

Inquiring minds want to know - what happened? why did he dump you?

It's been too painful to share with you. But seeing how today I saw him on the street and while still totally sucked, I didn't die right there of a broken heart. So I guess I'll live. And I guess I'm moving on. So sharing with you - this ONE AND ONLY time (I hope) - this very painful thing - may help. And is worth a shot.

It was Friday night at 7 o'clock. Finally time for me to get off of work after 5 consecutive 13 hour days in a row. I had started a new project with a new client. I was feeling great about my responsibilities and talent and efforts and results. And I hadn't seen David all week. I couldn't wait to see him. He said he would swing by my office and pick me up. And then we were supposed to go to dinner just the two of us. A romantic dinner at a little Italian place I'd never been to.

Another fact you might not know, is that 3 days later I was supposed to meet his parents for passover dinner. Something you will now know, but David never will, was that I was so nervous yet so excited for this dinner. I thought it meant something. I thought it meant something big. I thought it meant he loved me. I wanted it to mean he loved me. I'd taken off of WORK!!! (unheard of) to go dress shopping at Macy's. I'd tried every dress on they had in the store and bought three. I would decide which one was most appropriate later I had decided and return the other two (or save them for other occasions we might go to together). I had listened to NPR podcast and news stories ALL day long at work for days. His mother is a psychotherapist, his father a teacher. I didn't want to come off like an ignoramus. I wanted to impress them.

Just moments before he was to arrive, I went to the restroom. I brushed and primped my hair. I touched up my makeup. My eyeshadow. My lipstick. My lip gloss. I always wanted to look good for him. I was so happy.

I went down the elevator and out into the lobby. There he was. In one of his many suits. When he looked up he smiled, but in a forced way. I could feel my walk pick up a little quicker, almost in a half skip as I moved towards him and planted a firm kiss on his lips. I guess in hindsight, it wasn't really returned and had been all my doing but I hadn't noticed. "How are you?" he'd asked. "I'm great," I said. "The new job is going great! It's so good to see you. How are you?" "I'm okay" he replied. "Just okay?" I asked concerned thinking it was a work thing or a family thing that was bothering him. "We'll talk about it," he said as we turned up the street towards Dupont Circle.

"Why are you just okay?" I asked again. "We'll talk about it" he said again. "You're worrying me..." I said in response. But he gave no further answer. We walked several blocks and I felt sick in my stomach. I knew. I just knew.

"Do you wanna break up?" I asked him. "Yes," he nodded. "Shit," I said. We kept walking a little ways. "Okay," I said. "That's it?" He said back. "Well, what can I say?" I said panicked, the tears starting to well up choking in my throat. "I can't make you be with me if you don't want to be with me." He nodded again.

I suddenly felt overwhelmed and lightheaded. We sat down on a rock wall surrounding a park filled with a happy family of father and children playing baseball.

"Why did you ask me to meet your parents," I almost shrieked. "That was before..." he answered. "That was cruel," I said back. "There is nothing about this, that isn't cruel," he replied. "This is hard on me too you know." "This isn't hard on you," I said meanly. "It isn't hard on you at all."

"It just isn't right," he explained poorly. "I don't know what's wrong. But I haven't been able to sleep lately. I've been thinking about it for some time. It's just not right."

"I don't understand," I started to cry. "I feel liked I learned nothing from this relationship. I don't know how we went from those great dates at Firefly and Oya and Dplan to where we ended up. I don't know why we don't 'fit.' This isn't what I want. I like you. I like being with you. I want to be with you. We seem to have so much in common. Why is it so hard to just spend time together and be happy? Why didn't you get off a long day of work, want to see my smiling face, call me up saying 'coming over?' - go home with me, cook dinner, watch tv or read and go to bed. Any day, every week, all the time? Of course our relationship wasn't working. Bc it wasn't a relationship at all. We never DID anything together. Why didn't you want to do things with me or spend time with me and just relax with me if you liked me as much as you said you did? I just don't understand. I don't. I tried so hard. I tried to be nice and flexible and give you space. I feel like you never let me in or tried at all. And I don't know why. And that's so hard."

He paused for a long time. Then he tried to rub my back with his hand and I pulled away from him.

"I don't have any answers, just shared hurt. And confidence that this is the right decision. I feel good about the time we had together. I think you are truly excellent; smart and beautiful, kind and generous. I wish you the best in all things. I did and do care for you. The answer you are looking for is an intangible. i don't know why it didn't work and I really wish that it had but it didn't feel right to me and when I realized that it wasn't just stress or scheduling or anything either of us could change I thought that the best thing would be to recognize that and end it. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to use you, I was hoping to fall in love with you. I didn't and it sucks and I don't know what else to say."

OUCH. A punch to the gut. Are there any words ever said ever before by anyone, anywhere that ever hurt as much? "I was hoping to fall in love with you. I didn't."

What else was there to say? I made him give me $20 for cab fare. I was in no shape to take public transit home. I was sure to cry in public adding insult to injury. I made him wait for me to find a cab. "You were lucky to have me as long as you did," I spurted out sharp and angry. "You were lucky to have me at all." "I feel that way," he said.

"Don't call me. Don't email me. Don't invite me to stuff. Tell your friends not to invite me to stuff. If you see me on the street, pretend you don't know me."

"It doesn't have to be that way," he said. He genuinely looked hurt. Hah. As if. "Yes, it does," I replied without hesitation defensive and in pain. "Promise me." "Promise me this is it. I know myself and I want nothing to do with you. I wish you a good life I guess. Have a nice life." "I'll wish you the same then," he said back to me.

He hailed a cab and it pulled beside us. He opened the door. "Goodbye David," I said. "Goodbye," he said. I got in the cab and the door shut behind me. As it pulled away I looked over at him walking along the sidewalk away from me. He looked at me too. For a moment. He did look sad and defeated.

I held it together in the cab. I walked into my dark and empty house at 8pm on a Friday night like a zombie. I went upstairs and calmly put my pajamas on. I went back downstairs, opened a bottle of wine. I put something on the tv. I ordered a pizza. But when it came I took one look at it and felt nauseous. I couldn't take even one bite. So I just sat there, in the dark, drinking wine, crying and sobbing, and dying a little inside, until I fell asleep. I didn't leave the couch for almost 48 hours. Except to use the restroom. I sat in the darkness. I drank wine and liquor and beer. I didn't eat. I was empty. And I was alone. Yet, again. And all I could hear, over and over again, ringing in my ears like a curse -

"I hoped to fall in love with you. But I didn't. I don't know what else to say."

And I was left to ponder, what it was, that made me so willing to love others, yet so impossible to be loved in return.

I have never doubted why they call it heart ache. Because if you've known it, then you also know - your heart - actually aches. So much so, that you think you should die instantly from its infliction, but you don't. And minutes keep ticking. And suns keep rising. And people keep laughing. While you must watch and see and feel. When all you feel is despair.

I Ran into the EX....

And I. am. winning. WINNING!!!!!

Holy shit. Seriously.

Its like 9:15am on a Monday and I have work to get to. Like for realz. But...this is just too awesome not to impart to all my ladies out there who may need a beginning of the week boost of hope and awesomeness...

So - I don't know if I mentioned this before but I work ACROSS THE STREET from my EX (aka David, aka Mr. U or Mr. Unicorn - ack - barf - yeah right). I eat my lunch on a lovely rooftop every day. Only problem - I have to stare at his fuckin lair right across the street spoiling the ambiance. It blows.

My walk to and from the metro and work is his walk to and from his apartment and his work. So for two weeks I've been looking over my shoulder every second. Wondering if I was going to see him. Hoping I DONT see him. Hoping I DO see him. What if he was on a date? What if he was holding hands with some other fucking girl walking her to work like we used to do together? I was mortified and petrified and angry and sad and a total paranoid freak running around thinking I saw him anywhere and everywhere. Every morning. Every lunch break. Every evening. Totally psychotic nightmarish misery.

Then...this morning. I was walking from the metro. I totally forgot he existed. (At least for the moment I had). I was texting funny messages back and forth with my coworker B, on my way to work. She was already there and I was filling her in on the weekend.

And I look over to the right to check the traffic at an intersection and there he is. THERE HE FUCKING IS!!! The first time I wasn't looking for him and there he was. And I laughed. Out loud. Because OF COURSE. Because OF COURSE the one minute I let my guard down, there he was.

And I thought of avoiding him. I thought of changing course to work. I wondered if he saw me and was pretending to ignore me or whether he hadn't seen me at all. And I somehow decided this was it - I was going to run into him - ON PURPOSE - and get back my sanity. And my independence. And my freedom.

So I walked on, until we were next to each other AT THE SAME FUCKING CROSSWALK. Waiting for the light to turn so we could cross the street. And he stood next to me.

"Hey," I said nonchalantly. "Good morning."

"Oh! Hey!" he said as surprised to see me as I had been.

And then my coworker B sent me a text that was HILARIOUS and I looked at it and laughed.

"You seem to be in a good mood this morning," he said staring at me.

"Yeah," I said. "I am. I'm good."

"Thanks for my stuff," he said. (I didn't mention it but I dropped his shit off in a plastic bag on his doorstep in the middle of the day on Saturday. Good riddins).

"No problem," I replied casually. "I just didn't want anything of yours lying around."

I got another text from B and laughed one more time. "Take care," I said as easy breezy as a Covergirl, waving my hand in the air with my folded up newspaper. I walked across the street away from him and smiled down ahead.

He had LOOKED LIKE SHIT. He looked tired. and sad. And I - did not. I don't know if I'm winning or not (really), since I love him. And miss him. And he fucked with me. But again. he. looked. like. shit. tired. and. sad. And I did not. I'm definitely not losing. And you know what...he just looked like some guy. It's sort of tragic really - because its like he was a stranger. Like none of it every happened. But Life goes on...because it must. And since I must go along with it...I'll do it and win.

YES!!!! A TRIUMPH!!!