Friday, October 19, 2012

If only essay writing were this easy

So technically, I have been dating someone for almost a month now.  As I sit here watching "Sex and the City" and drinking cheap strawberry wine (and working on my essay if anyone asks), I've realized two things:

1) I'm okay with prostitution.

2) I really miss my ex.

Realization #1

I'm not saying I want to be a prostitute but what I'm wondering is this: If you're going to do it anyways, why not get paid?  Yes okay, morals obviously get in the way...but really, if you can not only get your nookie-cake AND the new Coach bag?  Really, there's not a lot of difference between casually dating (that is, not looking to get married/in a serious relationship) and prostitution?  The lines are definitely blurred.

Realization #2

I miss my ex (no, not Justin).  I'm one of those girls who doesn't get attached - I'm really bad at it, I generally hate men and if I don't, they're probably gay.  Fact of the matter is, a million this are more important than relationships.  That being said - I fell hard for an uneducated, blond, who was kinda short and of all things, in the army.  F. My. Life.  Seriously...THAT'S what I fall for?  Okay well...I miss him.  He was sweet, made me laugh, made me feel safe...and I wanted to make him happy.  I wanted to make things last...thing is, I'm really bad at relationships.  But, end of the day, we broke up.  It just wasn't working - he started it, I finished it, we were good to go our separate ways. 

Maybe I'm just projecting my issues of relationships onto one guy...maybe.  Or maybe I'm just not happy with being single...or maybe I'm too happy being single.  I dunno...but it doesn't really matter, we broke up.  And here I am now, I have to double check the name I'm saying, if new guy brings him up, I get sad.  I'm just...urgh!  I'm losing my mind here.

New plan...another glass of wine! 

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Dear Justin

Hi there blog world,

I haven't been writing for awhile as I've been overwhelmed and don't know what to say.  But I'm going to start with a letter - to Justin.  For those of you who don't know who he is, he's my husband.  I'd love to say ex-husband but unfortunately, he hasn't divorced me.  He's also the jerk who told me I was crazy when I thought he was cheating on me - so much so that I actually went on medication for depression because "I was crazy."  Justin decided to come to UNBSJ, the school that I have attended for the past 3 years because his new floozy lives in the city apparently.  So here's the letter, full names because hopefully, someday he reads this and hopefully, he realizes what an ass he truly has been. 

Dear Justin,

How dare you?  Who the hell do you think you are to step foot in the city I came to to run away from you?  How dare you invade my space? The space that I made for myself because I was so beaten down by you that I needed something to keep me alive?  How dare you attempt to ruin that for me? 

Well, welcome to my world now.  I have never kept quiet about being in an abusive relationship - that's right, abuse.  I'm sure you don't like that term - that you were abusive.  That you lied to me to a point where I took medication that caused me to try to kill myself, that you called me stupid so much that I believed it, that I was putting you through university for "us"...sorry hun, does your new girlfriend know THAT is the type of person you are?  I could say "were" but I don't think that sadistic type of attitude - that "I'm better than you in all ways" sort of attitude, goes away.

So welcome to UNBSJ - where the people that know me (and that's a lot of people, professors, students, faculty) know that you're abusive.  That you play the sweetheart well - but with me, you don't get to have that mask because I already smashed it.

By the way, I'm far, far from stupid.  My 'stupid' ideas had you emailing to volunteer for me (by the way, who's stupid for not double checking the e-mail address since you knew I was involved with the school?).  My "stupid" brain is graduating this year - with a pretty damn good GPA.  So yeah, you're an idiot for ever saying that.

So since you're here and constantly looking like you're constipated (seriously, you may want to get something checked out), I'm going to make the best of it.  I'm going to smile every time I see you because you truly are a moron.  You lied, cheated, broke my heart, left a lot of psychological damage, but you know what - I'm so much better than that.  Let's just put this out there, I'm just so much better than you.  I'm going to smile because I'm no longer stuck with your red-headed, condescending, paunch-bellied, scarred up, wanna be high school hero, pain-in-the-ass.


Samantha Tinker (same last name).