And you all wonder why I'm so fucked up. People let me just tell you he's done a number on me and I was so blind. I came home yesterday to his drunk butt, this time though I had the support of my friends and their spirit exploding within me like the force of the dark side. He actually tried to be my friend as if nothing has ever happened - like his behavior in the last couple of days was nonexistent- I ain't making this up. Each time he or we almost got on the subject of our demise, I changed it. I had to because if I let him see me sweat it would have been awful for me and I would instantly succumb to being a blubbering idiot. NOT HAPPENING ANY MORE!
Although we did talk a little bit, I made sure that as soon as I felt the slightest bit uncomfortable I changed the subject or zinged him with my wit. At one point he wanted to tell me all about how we were going to be the greatest of friends after this, he actually tried to sell me on it - I told him American Idol was on and then I left the room. Maybe it was immature but my sanity comes first. Am I bitter? Yes. Am I still hurting? Yes. Will he know that? Hell No. He can suck my left nut if he thinks that he'll get to me ever again. What's that saying about a woman scorned, yeh that's me.