As I washed away the thick layer shame under the hot current of reality, it occurred to me that this is how I would feel if I decided to turn to a life of escorting in order to pay off my student loans.
No, wait a second. At least I would be getting paid for the shame I'd be accumulating and paying off student loans. All in all, the shame brought by prostituting one's body is probably preferable to the type of shame that accompanies having to swallow one's pride for the wrong reasons and people for free.
And here's the deal, those who say the best things in life are free are only half right because they're ignoring that the worst fucking things in life are also free (I would make a list showcasing such things, but I feel it's pointless at this stage).
One of such things, you know the kind that comes for free, made its way to my electronic inbox hours after the pride swallowing fest had concluded. I had freed myself from my shame, but life just comes and bites you in the ass, doesn't it?
As soon as I read the subject of the e-mail, I knew I was in deep shit. The metaphorical kind, but shit nonetheless. When someone sends you an e-mail that feels the need to be overtly apologetic beginning at the subject line, you know you're in for a shit storm. An e-mail that has an apologetic phrase or word in the subject line is the electronic equivalent to those people who begin a conversation with "Not to be rude, but...," "Please don't take this personally, but..." or "You're a really nice person and all, but..."
Even having this knowledge didn't stop my finger from making its way through the trackpad and click the forsaken thing open. My eyes, having a mind of their own, forced my brain to understand the words that strung together a half-assed apology for being unable to say yes to the idea of giving the relationship another shot.
Now, if there's something I am proud of is being the bigger person in any type of situation (and not because I'm grossly overweight, might I add). I replied to his apologies with as much grace as I could muster, which isn't really saying much, as I am convinced I am about as much of a lady as any man out there. The gist of this reply was a reminder that a) he was the one to break up with me and then wanted to get back together in the first place, and b) that it was ok, I knew how to handle rejection (the fact that he didn't for the longest time know how to do so was in the subtext of this e-mail).
It shouldn't have surprised me, then, that his reply would be the equivalent of a three year old's temper tantrum on crack. Even then, I would think the three year old on crack would have exercised more composure than my ex-fiancé did in his message.
Now, I'm not going to go in gross detail, but all you need to know is the following. According to my ex-fiancé:
Once I finished reading the electronic PR stunt, I realized that my metaphorical penis will always be larger than his actual penis, which is probably why he feels the need to lash out -emasculation will do that to some men. Well, had he actually sacked up and been decent, respecting my wishes of not wanting to hear from him and minimize the pressure to get back together, his actual penis wouldn't have been terrorized by my metaphorical one.
Even having this knowledge didn't stop my finger from making its way through the trackpad and click the forsaken thing open. My eyes, having a mind of their own, forced my brain to understand the words that strung together a half-assed apology for being unable to say yes to the idea of giving the relationship another shot.
Now, if there's something I am proud of is being the bigger person in any type of situation (and not because I'm grossly overweight, might I add). I replied to his apologies with as much grace as I could muster, which isn't really saying much, as I am convinced I am about as much of a lady as any man out there. The gist of this reply was a reminder that a) he was the one to break up with me and then wanted to get back together in the first place, and b) that it was ok, I knew how to handle rejection (the fact that he didn't for the longest time know how to do so was in the subtext of this e-mail).
It shouldn't have surprised me, then, that his reply would be the equivalent of a three year old's temper tantrum on crack. Even then, I would think the three year old on crack would have exercised more composure than my ex-fiancé did in his message.
Now, I'm not going to go in gross detail, but all you need to know is the following. According to my ex-fiancé:
- I'm a stupid slut (but he doesn't want to insult me, promise!) - Obviously, it's the stupid that gets me. I take my sluttiness very seriously, people!
- It was quite easy to fall out of love with me because I'm an ordinary girl and no longer special (but, you know, he was just trying to be honest, not a jerk) - Well, I've got a vagina, and those all feel the same, I've been told. So, well, did he want me to wear a strap-on?
- I was a good person in the beginning of the relationship, but now I've changed (because we all stay the same) - I tried to stay like my 19 year-old self, but people kept begging me to grow the fuck up.
- He would rather me hate him so that I could move on (you know, hatred is the new closure) - Hate? Um, not so sure if hate is what he deserves, more like castration.
Once I finished reading the electronic PR stunt, I realized that my metaphorical penis will always be larger than his actual penis, which is probably why he feels the need to lash out -emasculation will do that to some men. Well, had he actually sacked up and been decent, respecting my wishes of not wanting to hear from him and minimize the pressure to get back together, his actual penis wouldn't have been terrorized by my metaphorical one.
See, because that's the thing, it takes real balls to make yourself completely vulnerable while understanding that there's another person at the other end that might not want the same things you do, and you've got to respect that other person's wishes. Needless to say, my metaphorical penis doesn't feel the need to reply to his message, even if he did write the next day to say he apologized for any damage he might have incurred, since he was only trying to be honest, not a jerk.
Not so fast, buddy. For someone who was so calculated in his hurtful comments, he missed on both counts. He was neither honest nor quite a jerk.
I think it just makes him a dick, one that's for free at that.
No comments:
Post a Comment