Loser

Today’s topic for conversation: why is Kate such a loser? What compels me to do stupid, stupid things? I’m incapable of leaving things alone if I care at all about the individual in question. I can’t just embrace the status quo and move along my merry way. If a situation is tense, and I give a shit about the person, I have to reach out and try to make it better. And to top it off, I did something that only made things more complicated. Which is shocking, frankly, because I didn’t think that was possible.

What did I do? After 10 months of zero contact, I was compelled to send The Ex a birthday text message. We’ve had no contact at all for the first time in 17 years. He didn’t acknowledge Christmas. He didn’t acknowledge my birthday. To normal human beings, this means “I’m not really interested in maintaining this friendship any longer, love ya, bye”. To me, all I saw was “hey, today’s The Ex’s birthday, awwwww”.

I was doing so well! I didn’t buy a card. I didn’t send an e-card. I was full of righteous indignation at the “well-if-that’s-the-way-he-wants-to-be-about-it”-ness of it all. I was good to go. But instead of our weekly staff meeting this morning, we had an e-meeting. This freed up some time for me. Time on my hands is apparently a bad thing because my tiny, little, infinitesimal brain was allowed to recall that I still had his cell phone number. And before you can say “Wow, that Duchovny should be naked more” my fingers were flying over the keypad.

You want to know what’s worse than me actually doing this? The text disappeared out of the outbox. I don’t know what that means. I don’t even know if his phone is text enabled. Why didn’t I just send him an email? At least that way, I could be relatively sure he got it. But nooooooooo, I had to send the text. So, now I can’t send an email on top of that because that’s just a Swingers moment waiting to happen. Nothing says “more desperate than you already look” like sending a follow-up “casual” email to confirm that receipt of text message. So, I can’t email him. And unless he responds for some reason, I wont know if he got the text. Which I shouldn’t have sent. And I shouldn’t think about. Ever.

Ugh.

Kate, banging head on desk yelling “why?” over and over again

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