UPDATE: I'm a loser

I've let you all down. I've let myself down. I'm such a bonehead. No, what I really am is a fucking asshole dipshit bonehead.

No, I haven't been offline wildly having crazy sexual adventures with handsome and adoring men. I wish. I've been doing some very stupid, stupid things that I wish I hadn't. But now, hopefully, I've come to my senses.

When many of you last saw me, I was living what most women would call a fantasy. Dates all over the place with nice men who seemed to really like me. As opposed to the creep who had just dumped me, that is. All was good, they were nice, and I thought I was moving on nicely.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Apparently, I'm a slow learner. Because shortly before my last post (it was actually right on Valentine's Day), the creep starting creeping his way back into my life. It started with him just dropping by on Valentine's Day with gifts. And not, he said, because he wanted anything from me but because he still cared about me as a friend and wanted to show that we could be just that. Fine...okay...I might be able to do that. Not sure, but I definitely wanted to act with class, so I accepted said gifts, offered him a drink, and then sent him on his way with a quick hug. No big deal, right?

Wrong! He began dropping by on a regular basis "to see how you are doing." And, again, because I wanted to act with some dignity and because I've never not been friends with an ex, I let him in and we'd talk and/or have a drink. And I'd send him on his way. But the hug soon evolved into a kiss good-bye. And pretty soon, he started kissing me a bit longer and a bit harder and then trying to steer me into my bedroom. And I resisted. Oh, how I resisted! For weeks and weeks, I resisted. And I managed that until the first weekend of May.

And as this drawn out and sneaky seduction of his went on, I found all kinds of reasons to stop seeing the other guys. I'd cancel dates or get my nose out of joint over some imagined slight. And when they'd call me out on it, I'd get angry and have my excuse to banish them. Until only the creep was left. Oh, and did I mention he was still dating one of his sluts regularly and seeing the other whenever she was in town or he could get to Louisville? But I'm sure you already guessed that. Because you're smart. Unlike me.

And so we get to that fateful first weekend in May. He called and wanted to come over Friday night and have a drink. Oh, and maybe we could have a bit of a talk. Fine with me! And so we did. Or, at least, he did. It was everything I wanted to hear. "It's not working out with Dawn." "She doesn't get me like you do." "Well, break it off with her then!" said I. "Well, I plan to do that once the school year is over. It's pretty hard to break up with her on a Friday and have to face her at work on Monday, after all. It will be easier for her to see me at work if summer break gives her time to get over it." Alrighty then, I thought. I knew this couldn't last. And I was right! "But why are you telling me this?" I said. And he said that part of the problem between us had been that we didn't communicate. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe he's finally gotten it. "You never really told me you loved me, you know," he said. And I immediately answered back that I don't know if I did, but all of my actions certainly telegraphed that loud and clear over the course of 18 years together. And besides, I always hesitated to discuss feelings with him because he was so adamant that we not do that and I was afraid to be too clingy for fear I'd drive him away. Mainly because he told me dozens of times that it would. After a bit more back and forth about feelings and such and several more drinks, he said that maybe we should work on being more honest with each other and see what happened. And then, of course, he kissed me. And this time, I kissed him back. And...well...he ended up staying the weekend. And, damn, the fucking was grand. The coffee in the morning together was grand. The dinner I cooked him the next night was grand. It was so fucking grand, grand, grand!!!!

So I should have known it was completely fucked up. But, as I said, I must be a slow learner. Because I walked on air and with a lighter heart for the next week. After everything I'd been through, it was all gonna work out!!!!! Oh, Geggy, you stupid fucking bitch.

The next Friday, for the first time in a long time, I went to my favorite watering hole. The one that, when we had split, we had agreed to split custody of by promising never to bring a date there. Sat down with some of my buddies and had a beer. Some other old friends also came in and, when we got done hugging, they said that I should watch out because Tom was on his way there. I said no big deal. And was actually secretly pleased because that meant he was coming to see me as, I think I've mentioned, he knew he couldn't bring a date there. So I ordered a second beer. And just as I poured it into my glass, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. But it wasn't until I turned and smiled that I saw her. Holding his hand. In my fucking bar. With him. From whom I had insisted on just one promise.

I started to just shake. I have no idea what my face looked like but it must have spoken volumes because he took a stronger grip on her arm and dragged her through the bar to another door. And as they went by me, I said (gritting my teeth, because they hurt later), "Get her the fuck out of here" audibly, but not screaming. But everyone around me knew I meant business. And then I just sat there and continued shaking for I don't know how long. 15 minutes? 30 minutes? I don't know. I know I mechanically drank that second beer. I know someone ordered me a third. I know I couldn't swallow more than half of it. I know the thought went through my head that this was what it felt like to lose your mind. Because, no doubt about it, I had.

When I thought my legs would hold me, I got up, said goodbye to everyone at the bar, and left. I wasn't crying. I was still shaking. I couldn't form a coherent thought and remember thinking how weird that was. But I didn't drive home. I drove to his (what used to be our) house. The bedroom (what used to be my bedroom) light was on. I pounded on the door and rang the door bell. Over and over and over and over and over and over. Through the window in the door, I could see he finally came into the foyer with her and her 80s big hair trailing behind. I yelled at him to open and door. Of course, he didn't have the guts to do that. He just kept telling me to go away. I yelled at him to tell the truth for once in his life and he said I didn't know the truth. So I yelled for him to tell her where he'd been last weekend and many nights before that and had he gotten her a Valentine's Day present because, if not, I could give her the one he gave me. And he just kept telling me to go away. And I just kept naming dates and times. Finally, after much prodding by her, he threatened to call the cops. I finally left and as I walked past his car in the driveway to mine, I kicked it in frustration. Left a nice little dent, I did. Right in the middle of the back quarter panel. Of his 2005 Dodge 300m. It wasn't enough but it would have to do. I went home and cried the rest of the night. I never did sleep that night. But when I finally crawled out of bed the next day, I felt light. Like a huge load was gone.

I then went about my business and did not talk about him or what happened to anyone. Even those who had been in the bar and had an inkling that there would be some sort of blow up. But he seemed to feel the need to discuss it with everyone we knew, including my family. Funnily enough, though, the only part he feels the need to tell people is how I'm completely nuts and came to his house in the middle of the night, started yelling and screaming for no reason, knocked over all the flower pots, and vandalized his home and his car. For anyone who has asked, I have taken full credit for the car. And if they really think I did it for no reason, I feel no need to explain. And those who know me well have ended their question about what did I really do with the phrase, "so what did he do to make you do that?"