I should be denied the privilege of a cell phone. I need to borrow several cups of your willpower and level-headedness. That and a couple of eggs if you don’t mind. I have nothing for breakfast tomorrow and I’m way too tired to drag my sorry ass to the store.
Oh wait, before I launch into a lengthy diatribe about my problems, let me officially put down my reaction to the Tommy Drops an L-Bomb headline. I know we have hashed this out via several other communication mediums already but I feel that it should be put down for the OFFICIAL RECORD, so that future generations don’t have to ask themselves, “I wonder what Ibis thought about all these shenanigans?” Ok here we go:
HOLY L-BOMB! SKYPE ME IMMEDIATELY WOMAN!
Future generations satisfied? Ok good.
Seriously though, I couldn’t agree more with the majority of your oh-so-neatly listed emotions. Especially the prediction that if Tommy made any serious life changing decisions on your account, it would put way too much pressure on the relationship to succeed, ironically dooming it to failure and leading to him feeling resentful and you feeling guilty, even though he would reassure you constantly and tell you over and over again, “you have nothing to feel guilty about” and “of course I’m not resentful!” and then eventually you’d have to end it and you’d be left there wishing you could have the last year and a half of your life back. Oops, there I go talking about myself again. Live it, learn it. (Quote, unquote, Carrie Bradshaw. If you can think of the episode to which I’m referring, ten points for wasting time watching SATC instead of studying for finals or otherwise improving your life).
Anyways, I’m exceptionally proud of you for working through that drama and coming out on the other side with your dignity, reputation and friendship with Tommy still intact. That’s quite the feat. You should join the Marines while you’re slumming it in Cali, because you sure know how to make your way through a minefield. Of emotions. You’re an emotional Marine. Ok, you get it.
This is an excellent segue to my original topic of discussion. Ie. I need to borrow a cup of your self-control. Here’s the issue. Sam is back. (pause for effect). Jk, you already know he’s back. Ermahgerd life happens so fast in real-time. (Did I just type ermahgerd? I 100% blame Twitter for teaching me that meme. And I’m sorry if you hadn’t seen it yet. Don’t google it. You’ll be a better person if you don’t know. You’re going to google it, aren’t you? Don’t say I didn’t warn you).
Wow I’m finding it difficult to stay on topic right now. Sam. I’m talking about Sam. He’s back. He leaves me hanging for OVER A MONTH while he drinks (and probably bangs, just sayin’) his way through Europe and then gets back home and thinks it’s kosher if he just casually shoots me a text as if I hadn’t already deleted his number, removed him from fb, and started forgetting that he was ever a character in my story. So in a spectacular bit of male-logic, he thinks it’s a great idea to tell me that he is definitely into me, and then accuse me of needing “constant reassurance that he likes me” in the same text. And in this same text he also used the wrong “your.” He meant “you’re.” He wrote “your.” I hate that. We’ve already hashed this out too but I’m on a roll. And don’t forget about the future generations. My reaction to this can be summed up as follows:
- He used the wrong your. Gross.
- Oh good, he still likes me. Hello sweet sweet validation!
- Constant reassurance? Are you kidding me?
- Mad points for honesty. Honesty is sexy. If he had told me this in person it would have been really hard not to punch him in the face. With my lips.
In regards to point 2, I do not think a misinterpreted flirty drunk text plus a legitimate question equals “need for constant reassurance.” Especially when the two were spaced about two months apart. If I may quote our number one rule for dating (pay attention future generations, this is legit): Don’t believe a single thing he says until he backs it up with action. So Sam, you can tell me that you like me until the cows come home, but if you don’t have any reaction whatsoever when I tell you I have to cancel our tentative third date, I am well within my rights to question whether you are still interested in hanging out again. I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time to waste aligning my schedule with his for naught. And I certainly don’t have energy to waste looking forward to something that is never going to happen. Wow that was therapeutic to share with you for the second time. I feel like I just meditated in a bubble bath.
Ok, I’ve got to wrap it up. This is getting unnecessarily long. Stay tuned for part two of Ibis vs. Ibis where I finally get to the point of my story.
Love you, miss you, etc.