You see I found out one of my friends is dating an ex of mine from years ago. Do I care? Not really, except I guess I do because I would have expected her to tell me or say something to me herself.
Instead I hear about it down the grapevine 2 months after the fact.
In a perfect world she would have mentioned it to me, I would have gone oh, but I thought you hated him and he definitely hated you? But you know, hey whatever. But obviously we don’t live in a perfect world and for some reason she never mentioned it.
Our breakup was one of the messiest in my life, it took months of drug therapy in my friends’ hot tub. Not to mention the thought that I had some horrible sexual disease that might kill me in the meantime – back in the days where HIV tests took 6 months. The fact that he not only cheated on me but was a baby-daddy 3 months after we broke up was just a big a slap in the face as any.
Yes, cheers for that matey. But it’s one of those things that I’ve forgiven and every so often the baggage comes back to bite me in the ass even though I think I’ve worked through it.
So on one hand I really truly don’t give a toss about it yet at the same time I’m pissed off that she didn’t say anything.
It’s a very weird place to be.
I find this whole situation really bloody bizarre. Did I slip into an alternate reality? If so where the hell is my Jason Momoa? Who, by the way, I met at the Oz Comic Con in Sydney last weekend. He’s a mountain of a furry man who I’d climb any day. Oh yes. PHWOAR!
Getting back to the point though, am I making this out to be something it’s not? Should I even care? It’s not like it affects my life one way or another.
In keeping with this thought process I believe I’ll just cut it loose. I’m similar in my relationships as I am in my friendships. If my friends can’t be honest and upfront with me then why should they remain my friends?
And to end on a nice bright note, mountain of a man. Furry. Tattoo’s. HAWWWT. Please apply within.