There aren’t a lot of things I can do, but I can admit when I’m wrong. I’ve been casually seeing this guy for three months, now, and despite him telling me with words that literally came out of his mouth and into my ears that he did not want a girlfriend, I thought that maybe he still wanted me to be his girlfriend. Why? Because delusion is my coping mechanism. Don’t judge me, because Xanax and Adderall are yours, and at least the way I alter my own reality is organic.
Unfortunately, I came upon some information that even I can’t figure out how to twist into a happily ever after. This man is not only not my boyfriend, and not only does he have no interest in being my boyfriend, but he very well may be somebody else’s almost boyfriend. I was just casually stalking him when I came upon a picture of him and some girl — who upon further investigation is actually a 35-year-old woman who recently posted a photo of herself, wrapped around a pole, biting her own foot. The photo she posted with him though was that perfect kind of photo that looks accidentally romantic and makes everyone think you’re in love. It wasn’t even a quality picture — super blurry — its only purpose was to publicly claim him. I know it. She knows it. And he probably has no idea, but really, what he thinks is not important. And if I wasn’t already positive they were banging, the caption put the final nail in the coffin.
She called him “This guy.”
THIS GUY. I can’t compete with “this guy.” I’ve only hung out with him like, 15 times, but who’s counting, and she’s calling him this guy. I’m way out of my element here, and I need to swerve so fast I get whiplash.
I should have just stopped. I should have called it quits right in that moment, but I was like a wild woman, and I couldn’t stop. I did a pretty deep dive creeping her. Enough to learn that they’ve been seeing each other. For two and a half years.
Do you know what’s worse than finding out that the guy you thought you were almost dating is fucking a stripper? Finding out that the guy you thought you were almost dating is DATING a stripper.
Obviously my first concern is that his sleeping with a stripper is a health risk. And obviously my second concern is that that is actually not my first concern, and I’m only pretending it is so you’ll think I’m well-adjusted. My first concern is actually that this means he’s definitely not going to be my boyfriend. My third (?) concern is that she’s not even pretty — like had you not seen a naked woman in three months, you’d prefer masturbating to a provocatively shaped lamp to sleeping with her — and my final concern is that she kind of looks like me, but, like, if I got addicted to heroin.
I don’t know what all this says about me as a person, but I know what it says about him. He’s over. He is cancelled. And he is clearly only dating her because she can eat herself out.
And the next time he texts me, I pray the lord my soul to keep, because I’m either going to lose my shit or completely ignore all this and invite him to my company’s Christmas party and neither option is good..
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