Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Ex-Men

Rasta H. Tafari! When it rains, it pours. My ex (well, whatever he is/was, since he never admitted that I was his girlfriend, despite the fact that all his friends referred to me as such, and made very little effort to come see me, a far cry from the current wondrous boyfriend who, I think, wants me to meet his parents when they come to visit in late May) called me last Thursday, under the pretense of getting a book back from me, and oh by the way I look good. Which is fine. I offered to mail it to him (no COD, even!), then he emails back and says he wants to pick it up. Which is also fine, but I feel ambivalent about this - on the one hand, I want to show him how much better off I am without him, but on the other hand, I would like to attempt to be his friend, and on the OTHER hand, I feel like I'd be best off not talking to him at all.

At least he has a girlfriend now, too. I am happy that he has found someone. For his sake, I hope she likes the sauce, and I also hope she lives on his side of the ferry. And I hope she is nice, because I think he is ultimately nice inside, he is just not done being a little drunken boy.

Sigh.

No wonder my boss gave up on trying to remember the names of the Navy boys, and just calls them all "Bremerton".

At least I'm not a Bremelo! (reference Sir Mix-a-Lot)

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