So, I have a boyfriend.
& does that feel REALLY weird to type?
But let’s be real, it’s ME so there’s more to the story. I now present:
The Story of How My Boyfriend Dumped Me Before He Was Even My Boyfriend
Yup....
Look into the face of the man who let me go before he even had me ;)
We met through a mutual friend and it was lust at first hang-out.
Actually, it was lust at first Snapchat. My work wife, as I so lovingly call her, sent me a Snap of her & the Deej out at a bar in July. I sent her one back and complimented his sweet lumberjack beard. Two friend-requests and a significant comparing of family trees (because the mofo’s last name is my mother’s maiden name...again, I can’t make this shit up*) later, we exchanged numbers and started talking on the phone every night for hours, like we were both back in junior high.
We'd been talking for a few weeks and everything had been going really well. He was smart, funny, cute and seemed generally normal, which as you all know, is NEW for me. We took turns driving to see each other, texted all day erryday and I was starting to think I was headed for an actual adult relationship.
After a particularly awful day, I was walking out and saw a missed call from the Deej. Excited to talk to him and turn around the clusterfuck of a day I’d been having, I called and within ten seconds, he let out a deep sigh and said, “So, how do you think it’s been going with us?”
Um, I thought it was AMAZING because you texted me at lunch 'Miss youuuu babe' but apparently, a bitch was WRONG, I thought, but instead of voicing that sentiment, I just managed a nervous laugh and said, “Well, I thought it was going good, but apparently, that’s not how you’re feeling.”
And then he launched into a ten minute speech about why we weren’t romantically compatible while I started silently bawling in the parking lot. My favorite section was an especially impassioned moment when he exclaimed, “you know, I want to be with someone that I go to bed thinking about and I want them to be the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning.”
I wanted to say, 'Dude, do you know what I think about when I first wake up in the morning? Whether or not, I have to pee. I think about PEEING, not your name. This isn't the effing Notebook. I am not Rachel McAdams and you, for sure, aren't Ryan Fucking Gosling so let's calm down on all this soulmate bullshit and explain why you were winky-facing me three hours before telling me you were over this'
But all I managed was a few sniffles before telling him I'd call him back when (or if) I processed what he'd said. After hanging up, I cried more, destroyed my eyeliner, exclaimed 'You've GOT to be fucking KIDDING me' so loudly at an intersection I terrified a biker and then arrived at home and reached for my phone once again to call in reinforcements.
When I called my Work Wife (who had introduced us), she confessed that he'd told her that he was about to kick me to the curb and, in typical bestie fashion, she was already at the grocery store purchasing wine to bring over to my apartment because she knows me and she knows that...
Two bottles and roughly forty seven "he can fuck ALL the way off"s complete with windshield wiper arm motioning later, I drunkenly stumbled to the fridge in search of more wine and saw the jug of chocolate milk I had bought Deej for breakfast. I was trying to be cute and girlfriend-like and when he had spent the night and I'd had to run into work for something really quick, I'd stopped and gotten doughnuts and chocolate milk (his favorite) to surprise him.
Drunk Me, of course, recognized the jug of chocolate milk as the enemy and swiftly snatched it up, cursing its existence. Looking determinedly at my Work Wife, I stomped outside to hill on the side of my apartment and proceeded to dump it out while cussing and screaming at various volumes, "Fuck YOU and your SMALL TOWN FUCKING CHOCOLATE MILK. I don't know WHY I gave a SHIT about YOU...YOU CAN FUCK...ALL... THE... WAY... OFFFFFF!!!"
Work Wife diligently filmed this, while laughing, from my porch.
I finished the tirade by crushing the empty container with my tiny little fairy foot and punting it down the hill.
Now, that stellar display of maturity aside, I bounced back relatively quickly from being tossed aside. Sure, I called him drunkenly to tell him to fuck ALLLL the way off and demanded an explanation for why he was so wishy-washy. And sure, I deleted him off of most social media avenues so I didn't have to deal with his fuckery popping up in my Timeline. And SURE, I went to buy a revenge outfit knowing that I'd see him at my Work Wife's birthday bash later that week, but hey... I didn't start the war... I just planned on winning it.
& approximately six days later under the glow of strobe lights at the club, the Deej came back to tell me that he'd made a big mistake. Call me a romantic, but there's something adorable about a boy looking at you longingly from across the dance floor while you shake what your Momma gave you with everyone BUT him.
Once he finally coxed me over to talk to him (with a free drink, obviously), he started to explain that he hadn't exactly been truthful about why he wanted to end things. Apparently, I was SO awesome and we were so awesome TOGETHER that it had intimidated him enough that he'd decided running away was easier than actually trying. The following day, we had a long in-depth conversation about all the way he was wrong and stupid for leaving and the ways that I was pretty and awesome for existing. Actual portrayal of me during this conversation:
After making him suffer and make it up to me for a month or so, we made it official (which almost broke Facebook) and I'm currently happy and...TAKEN.
That doesn't mean, I won't be writing more StrugLife posts, because let's be real, I still have a plethora of douchewaffle stories to share :) but I thought I should let you guys know that I'm attempting an adult relationship.
Fingers. Crossed. ;) love you, idiots.
*Again for clarification’s sake, we are NOT related. I have verified with an extensive amount of relatives.
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