I had a great conversation with Chris on the phone on Monday. I told him I’d noticed changes in his behavior after that weird night at the bad pizza bar. We talked about the dates I went on, I asked point blank if this was about being busy or not wanting to see me. He said it’s just that he’s been busy. Then I asked to go see him. He said not tonight. He thought he had a cold sore.
Seriously?
Fucking goddammit. Why didn’t I see the writing on THAT wall? I should have held his feet to the fire. Obviously he does not want to be doing this! What the serious hell?
He said I should get at him later and I did, but he was unresponsive, probably high. I should have told him he had to come to me next. I should have made it absolutely clear that I can’t do all the work of coordinating when he gets to see me.
And it is “gets to.”
I feel stupid, kinda, like my feelings are telling me that I am to blame here. I have once again fallen in with a guy who made big promises early on and then dipped as soon as it seemed like things were getting real, so that means I’m the one who sucks here. But fuck that. Seriously fuck that. I’m the one with the fine ass and the pretty hair and the ripped back muscles. I’m beautiful and funny and fun and weird as hell and if he doesn’t want it HE is the asshole here.
So I guess that means I’m moving on? I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since that night. He didn’t even respond to any of my texts except when I told him my job shut down.
So fuck that. I’m done texting, calling, anything until he responds. He has to prove himself to get me back, not the other way around. Boy, bye. I don’t need my jacket back.
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