Friday Flashback: I Should Totally Send This in to Cosmo

June 03, 2005
Forgive me if I’ve ever told this story before, although I don’t think I have.

This Friday Flashback is an EX story.

So how can I briefly sum up the background info on this saga:

Girl meets Boy. Boy kisses Girl. Girl loses virginity to Boy. Boy goes crazy (literally). Girl tries to break away. Girl still feels “attached.” Boy gets out of mental hospital. Girl starts seeing boy on the sly (so her family won’t freak.) Girl and Boy eventually have “official” relationship. Boy starts doing drugs. Girl starts doing drugs with Boy. Boy tries to breakup with Girl. Girl will not have it. Boy cheats on Girl. Girl takes Boy back over and over again.

Years go by . . .

Boy and Girl are no longer together but still sleep together on a regular basis.

And then . . .

Okay – cut to 2001. It was July I think. I was house-sitting for Rachael on a weekend and I called the ex (current fuck-buddy) to see if he’d like to come over and spend the night.

“Um – I don’t think so.”

Okay, I’ve dealt with his “No’s” before and I know how to turn them into “Yes’s.” I mean, for godssake, I have literally made this whole thing drag on for years just getting him to temporarily change his mind about us over and over again. Surely I’ll be able to convince him.

We go back and forth for awhile and then he drops the bomb on me.

“Look, I, uh . . . I kinda met somebody.”

Did I mention I was still madly in love with this person and clinging to any bit of hope just waiting for the day that he would “wake up” and realize that I was the only one for him? Did I mention that I took any crumbs he would give?

So you can imagine what happened when he said this.

I went APESHIT!!!

He’d never “met anybody” before. He’d fucked girls. But to “meet somebody.” That was different. That meant feelings – feelings that he’d no longer have for me.
I really don’t know how to explain how crazy I became, but it included me threatening to kill myself, drinking large amounts of Hot Damn, crying hysterically and then throwing in threats to turn him in to the police (for drugs.)


“Yes, Ginger – she knows about us and that we used to be together.”

More screaming and sobbing.

This went on for an hour or so.

It ended with me saying something like “I fucking hate you and I hope you rot in hell motherfucker!”

And then slamming down the phone.

Well – the next morning, in all of my piteous pathetic-ness, I actually felt bad for what I had said. So I called him up. Imagine that!

I called him from the car on my way home.

“Look, I’m on my way home and I just feel terrible about last night. I don’t want the last words I ever said to you to be ‘rot in hell motherfucker.’ I’m going to stop by. So we can talk.”

Somehow he agreed to this.

So I went to his apartment and he “comforted” me. Then we started talking about her.

He actually tells me that she’s coming over that night and this will probably be the first time they’re “together.”

These words cut through me like razors. I mean, how DARE he have meaningful sex with anyone but me!! Still I remained calm.

“Look, I really hope the best for you. You know I’ll always love you,” I say to him, gritting my teeth.

And then we make out for awhile.

I get up and get ready to go and I say – “Umm let me use the bathroom before I go.”

So I go in to pee and then I get this crazy idea. Being with him for so long – I know how he likes things. I know how their night will most likely go. She’ll come over. Either he’ll ask her to take a shower before they get their groove on or they’ll shower together. I know he likes it clean, the bastard.

So – right before leaving the bathroom – I lick my index finger and I write in huge letters on the mirror “GINGER WAS HERE! JULY 31, 2001 9:30 AM”

I honestly never imagined that it would work. I thought that surely he would see it later on and wipe it away.

Only a few months later did I learn the story of the sobbing, sopping wet girl who emerged from the bathroom, fresh from a shower, wrapped in a towel screaming “FUCK YOU!! YOU WERE WITH HER THIS MORNING!!!”

She then gathered up her shit and left.

He told me that – in bed, a few months later. I didn’t finally rid myself of that disaster until Christmas Eve 2001 – and then the next March I met Chad and the rest is history.

Anyway – I’m quite proud of that one.

Score one for the scorned!!!

11:34 a.m. ::
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