Pissed

I am pissed. At you. Breaking off a friendship for no discernible reason (and I am 100% sure I did nothing that warranted it) is a dick move. Ghosting-with-a-flimsy-excuse is also a dick move. Giving me your "oh I'm too sad to do anything but work and sleep" woe routine for over a year, every time I texted good will and inquiries.

You either hid things from me, or suddenly didn't consider me a friend worth informing. After years of friendship and something like 8 months of near-daily contact.

One theory is that I scared you by calling you when upset. For support. You know, like friends do. That I climbed over too many of your walls to do so. I may be wrong.

Another is that you simply had no use for me. Some kind of short abortive relationship, I don't know the details, and then you found Twitter. A better audience. An audience that didn't expect any emotional labor. An audience that agreed with all of your politics, your most sensitive topic. Although I not once gave you shit about it, even though I had plenty of opportunities. "Fiscally conservative, socially liberal" my ass. How are you going to pay for the "socially liberal" policies? Fucking Monopoly money?

You had an entire audience, not just one person, and I'm sure you found at least one woman on Twitter willing to take my place as phone/text sexytimes partner. If not multiple women. You don't have a good track record with that shit, and I should have listened. Would have, if you weren't so fucking good with words. You use women for companionship, sexual fulfillment, and an audience for your jokes, then fuck off when you fine something new or better.

So yeah, I'm pissed. I'm also pissed that when I confronted you about how "I work and sleep" doesn't jive with "I tweet 50+ times in a few hours," you played the victim and were all me me me. You did not say "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." You said "I wasn't trying to be hurtful," with isn't the same fucking thing. Not by a mile.

I know for sure now: You have no interest in being my friend now, and are too chickenshit to tell me. Which also pisses me off.

On the other hand, I pity you. A lot. Your self-confidence is in the toilet, you have some seriously illogical expectations, and you've been stuck in a rut for something like 24 years, ever since something traumatic happened to you that you had no control over. Your self-confidence issues lead you to date women who aren't good for you. I'm not saying I would have been, although the fact that you never did the needful to find out if we got along in person suggests I might have been better than average. I'm just saying your shit is all fucked up, and I pity you for it.

Now I have to work you out of my soul like a splinter.