I totally dumped quasi-beau via text message yesterday just like Brit Brit allegedly dumped Fed-Ex. Enough was enough. We haven't seen each other since the drunken Christmas party incident though he has consistently been calling me since then. Mostly it's like we're GPSing each other's locations. "Hey, I'm at the bar." "Right on I'm at home." "OK, talk to you later?" "OK." And scene. For days and days on end. The clincher was a text message he sent me in the dark hours of Saturday morning that read "You sleep?" Um, obviously. No, Dummy. I'm up doing jumping jacks at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday. Shit for brains. Anyway we'd done the GPS thing again last night and he said he'd call me back. I responded with a text message of my own that went a little like this:
"You don't have to call me back. I can tell you could give two shits about me anyway so have a great xmas and new year without me. Peace."
He wrote back "You have a good one too. Peace."
WTF? God he's an idiot. Goodbye and good riddance.
And so begins step one of my game plan of a few posts below. Today there is even a gym bag in my trunk. Dear Lord. This is really happening isn't it?