The day had started out alright. I had killed a presentation that morning at work (my second day, boom) and was feeling pretty good. I had dinner plans with JM and a couple of her lady friends in the East Village. I was ignoring the fact that I was very pissed at Mason and had basically decided to write him off. I was also ignoring the fact that the awesome gold flats I had purchased were a size too small. I could barely walk down St. Marks and I later discovered that my toes were actually bleeding! Unfortunately my glass of wine at dinner put me in a melancholy mood and I was starting to get a bit upset realizing things were Mason were finished. I kept it together though and afterwards got on the First Ave subway to head back to the Shwick (passing by the infamous spot where Ibanker ended things, Happy Fucking Valentine's Day, huh!). As I sat on the train, I began to feel terrible. My stomach was in knots and I was starting to feel very nauseous. The crepes were not sitting well. I was sweaty and kept squirming in my seat. I'm sure the guy next to me thought I was insane. A couple stops before mine I knew I was going to vom and I even debated running out of the car to take care of it. I decided I couldn't face the humiliation though and kept holding it in until I got to my stop. I ran back to my apartment, swallowing it down the whole way. I was able to hold it in til I walked in the door and then pretty much threw up all over myself. I spent the next two hours curled up on the bathroom floor, puking my guts out. Happy Fucking Valentine's Day.
This is also a good analogy for how I feel about what went down with Mason and I. My suspicions were correct--things were ending. The unfortunate part is throughout our 4 month long "courtship", I knew things were not right. I had thought about ending it a couple times, but unfortunately never was able to man up and do it. We started out strong for the first 6 weeks or so--we were going out all the time, doing cute shit like carving pumpkins and got along really well. Around the holidays things started to decline but that's to be expected. We picked back up again after the new year, and were doing alright even though we should have been more comfortable than we were with each other at that point. There were qualities that I really didn't like about him--he was cheap, a bit selfish (esp in bed) and too serious. But I kept cutting him slack because of a tragedy he had endured not too long ago. There were a lot of times I didn't even think I liked him but I kept holding onto the whole thing out of a sense of boredom or morbid curiosity or god knows what.
Unfortunately my inability to act caused him to do it first, and that may be the thing that bothers me the most. He didn't text me for a week, including over Valentine's Day, so I knew what was up. I was over it and was planning to ignore the whole thing. Then I got the text asking me to meet him after work and I knew he had won. There was no way I could willingly walk into a conversation like that; it was humiliating enough having Ibanker see me cry and get upset. And though Mason is certainly no Ibanker, I still did not want to chance it, so I refused to meet him. Maybe not terribly mature of me, but what was the point of talking about it? This was what I said to him and his response made me glad I didn't meet him--"I just can't give you what you deserve". No shit, buddy. He really wanted me to waste my time going to have a chat with him when he was going to feed me lame excuses like this one, which he must have read in a guidebook on how to dump someone. I called him out, told him he should've been honest, and not dragged it out (though I am more to blame for that, considering I recognized he was not interested even before he did). And that was that.
Though what I really wanted to tell him, was that the Magnum condoms he used--totally unnecessary.
Happy Fucking Valentine's Day!!
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