Out of the blue, as Pandora’s blasting some country tunes and I’m knee-deep cleaning a much-neglected pile of clothes from recent travels, I get a text from literally the last person on earth I’d want to hear from.
While part of me was like “wow, he texted me,” the 99% left of my being was like, “what the flying fuck, why is this asshole talking to me.”
Our last interactions were tearfully documented many posts ago, and what does he want you ask? For me to ask my dad if he has any recommendations for a hernia doctor. Wow, dude. You have the balls after being such an asshole to me to ask for my help?
Part of me is like, throw this up to the greater good and help him by relaying the information to my dad. The other, and more logical part of me, wanted to tell him to fuck the hell off.
So I sit here torn, in a pile of dirty clothes, thinking about a person who’s literally been off my radar for a good while. It was only last night that my guy and I were talking about how crazy it is to think that we might just be each other’s “lasts,” in the sense that we wouldn’t be dating any new people for quite some time barring something tragic and unexpected.
It’s crazy to think that I’ve found a person that I could literally picture myself with for the next indeterminable period of my life. He makes me happy. He makes me laugh. He’s considerate and kind…and most of the time tries to open my door before I do it myself (thank you, every feminist book I’ve read haha).
It almost seems like a regression to help “he who must not be named” a la Voldemort from Harry Potter. At one point in my life I did picture myself with this undesirable soul, but as more time has passed and I’ve realized my worth extends beyond the validation of one man whom I’d been in love with the greater part of my early life.
Online dating really opened up my eyes that despite the trial and error that goes with that process, there are truly good men out there that want to be with women that are strong and confident.
Ahh, and how fitting is it that Pandora’s skipped to Thomas Rhett’s “Crash and Burn.” That’s exactly what this guy would have done to my life…so I guess it’s a good thing that I avoided the flames for a romance that’s kept me warm for so many years.
From a place of much content…
Spoonie Adventures in Books, Beauty, & Bullshit
I'm a 25 year old law and business student living with a chronic health condition. Follow along on my shenanigans.