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So, after nearly two months of silence from Charlie, he chooses yesterday, St Patrick's Day, to contact me.  The whole holiday approaching hurt at first simply because it reminded me of him due to him being so steeped in his heritage.  However, as the time got nearer to Irish Day, I found myself taking it back, reminding myself that this holiday is mine too, that I am also of Irish heritage, along with Scot & Welsh.  The holiday dawned & I was gleefully looking forward to going out for some green swill after a long day's work with my BFF Tim, my drinking buddy Sean, & having my boyfriend get to experience St Paddy's from a different point of view.  About an hour prior to the end of my shift, I look down at my phone to read a text, & guess who should be contacting me, but dear ol' Charlie.  "Happy St Patrick's Day, Chelsea" it reads.  I know, obviously, that he didn't send it to me in error as it clearly stated my name.  He knew who he was texting.  Honestly, I figured since I had not heard from him in quite a while, that he'd deleted me from his life, including my number.  Color me suprised indeed.  I had just finished eating a good, delicious meal too.  The minute I read that, my face paled & I felt immediately like hurling my cookies up (literally, the ones I had just eaten for desert).  After a moment of silent panic, I excused myself to the bathroom where I tried to calmly get my breathing under control.  I called the BFF who reminded me that Charlie doesn't deserve me, that I have a boyfriend who loves me, that he has two working kidneys & a heart... I was able to keep the contents of my stomach right where they belonged, thankfully. 

It gets better.  After finishing out the shift, I meet Tim at the pub where we wait in line to get inside.  It's packed, which is no suprise on the second biggest drinking day of the year.  My buddy Sean got there early & was already waiting for us with beer in-hand at a table inside.  The moment we get settled at the table, Sean leans over & tells me that Charlie texted him the day before & would I want to know anything as it had to do directly with me... Yes, indeed I would.  He proceeds to ask me how much I wanted to know & I tell him, just the truth.  He whips out his phone & presents the text conversation that he had with Mr. Drunk Dialysis.  In the conversation, Charlie tells him to hug me for him when he sees me, tells Sean that he tried to explain to me that his life "does not lend itself well to relationships", states that "she's a doll & I'm sure I'll be kicking myself when I'm alone at 60 over this," that he didn't want to make things worse by contacting me...  Tim said pointe blank, "He's already kicking himself".  I'm damn sure he is.  He won't find a better woman.  Ever.  As for the "not wanting to make things worse by contacting her," obviously bullshit-- the motherfucker texted me.  Oh, so, what?  It's OK to do it the very next day as long as it's on a big drinking day?  Think he'll do the same on New Year's or, damn, Fourth of July?  Guess the man really can't handle his beloved whiskey (it ain't whisky-- it's Canadian).  I think the loneliness is eating him now, not-to-mention he probably hasn't gotten laid in about two months. I'm not some fuck doll that you can play with when you feel like it & throw away when you aren't in the mood, or heavenforbid, the "right time in your life".  I'm better than that & obviously too good for your stupid ass, because you're a fucking idiot.

On a much happier note, as of today, I have been in a relationship with a wonderful man for a full month. (Yes, I did say, one-month; I'm doing the girly thing & celebrating a relationship inch, the one-month anniversary-- Shut up.) We celebrated by spending the day together making love, singing & making music with piano & guitar, going to the mall, modeling the clothes he bought for me...  We had so much fun just being silly.  We're like two halves of a whole.  Things are so wonderful.  I am so content with him.  Simple things make me happy: like actually dancing with him at the pub last night (slow dancing at that), the fact that when we walk I don't have to hurry along almost falling over my feet to keep up because we're practically the same height, being able to play with his gorgeous fucking hair... & the majority of the time when he's holding me, he kisses my neck affectionately.  I love it.  He does it absentmindedly & I feel so wanted, so needed

Charlie never did that.  Oh, & I deleted his text.  I didn't bother with a reply.

Date: 2010-03-19 07:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] alainacutie.livejournal.com
im proud of you for not replying
you seem so happy with your new man! keep it that way, dont let silly ex's who didnt deserve you mess anything up
keep smiling doll! and celebrate every day with him :)

Mr. Drunk Dialysis

Date: 2010-03-19 05:31 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] babysprite.livejournal.com
(LOL) :-D Oh, stop it! Just ... stop it! You. are. SO. bad. :0D (*giggle*)

Seriously. If he has to be on a dialysis machine, Mr. Drunk Dialysis shouldn't be drinking *anything.*

People who do stoopid stuff like that ... you just have to wonder and no, I wouldn't appreciate being *used* as a fuck-doll, either. It's so de-humanizing.

Now, enjoy your life with your new boyfriend (whom you most certainly deserve), and some Ry Cooder and the Chieftains http://bit.ly/bjQgNc "Dunmore Lassies," one of my all-time favorites.
Edited Date: 2010-03-19 05:34 pm (UTC)

whiskey man

Date: 2010-03-19 07:12 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jujen-kai.livejournal.com
Yes, he IS kicking himself, and as he continues to realize just what a wonder he discarded so casually, the kicks will become stronger. He can swallow all the cheap booze he wants. It will not help him. As his liver goes the way of his kidneys, and he realizes finally that there is no one there to love him, those kicks will be replaced by tears and self-loathing, and in the final measure, that too will be useless. Just like him.

Not that I'm bitter or anything... :)

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