|I mean, I'm not gross, am I?|
He was someone I had met on Instagram (I swear to sweet golden baby Jesus in the manger, that app is hellspawn). He lives in Orlando, FL and we tried numerous times to make something work, long-distance relationship-wise. No, I never met him in person. He made many promises about how much he cared about me, how he would come to see me, how we'd talk on the phone, etc. and about...hmmm, 3% of those promises were actually fulfilled (and by "fulfilled," I mean talking on the phone, which took him over a year to commit to). He had a nasty temper, was very insecure (which resulted in weird and creepy jealousy issues), and really enjoyed treating me like crap (i.e. saying he would call then wouldn't, starting fights, ignoring me, etc.) Let's not forget the very public flirting with other girls on Instagram (and subsequent denial of this behavior despite a mountain of physical evidence to the contrary), along with a litany of crude racist comments (the "N" word was thrown around like a frisbee at a church picnic), the high-class job (manager at a T.G.I. Friday's) and his ability to put his menagerie of pets ahead of me.
So, like I said, we were never in a relationship, although I wanted to be. I genuinely cared about him; I even loved him, as strange as it sounds. He wouldn't commit to me. He knew just what to say to keep me strung along, until I realized (albeit too late) that he was never going to actually act on his promises. It was far easier for him to make them than to execute them. I broke it off, telling him I really did wish him the best, and I wish it had worked out, but he just couldn't give me what I wanted (and believe me, I literally told him EXACTLY what I wanted, and none of it was out of the ordinary. Just togetherness, and you know, PHYSICALLY meeting, and dedicated time for us to talk on the phone, etc. I know, I'm a crazy, demanding bitch). This was several months ago.
Fast forward to this past Wednesday, when I'm plinking around on the demon app, and I see that he has included a girlfriend in his personal profile description. I saw this, and got this weird feeling that I only get when I'm incredibly anxious—I get hot and tingly starting at my head and spreading through my whole body. (That sounds like it might be a good thing, but I assure you, it's not). Then, because salting self-inflicted open wounds is one of my specialties, I looked him up on Google and saw his Facebook profile photo of he and his new lady, and he's kissing her cheek in front of the castle at Disney World. MY TURF. He knows this. He had never watched a single Disney film before talking to me (I doubt he has, even now). It's almost like a deliberate slap in the face, although he knows I don't have Facebook (if Instagram is hellspawn, Facebook is Beelzebub). I was so upset. I started to cry.
Why? Why do I even care? It's not that I want him back. I gave him many, many opportunities to prove his dedication and he knows I would have done anything for him. I told him as much. He made me feel bad about myself, he got angry at me and said & did cruel things. So why, I wondered, did it matter that he found someone new?
|At least this guy still wants me around. I think.|
In all fairness, I think he always knew that I was way out of his league. I think it made him insecure and that's why he'd pick fights, to establish dominance & control. He always said he liked "chubby chicks" (I fucking hate the word "chubby," by the way, almost as much as I hate "BBW") and I recently had a head-smacker of a realization as to why. Overweight women (in general, not all) have low self-esteem. Low self-confidence. I sure as hell know that I did (and still do, to an extent). We don't believe anyone could love us fat chicks, so when a man shows us attention, we'll do pretty much anything he wants to keep it. I believe that's why he (and other "chubby chasers") go for larger women—so they can be in control and always have the upper hand. They know just how to push those buttons to keep a fat woman feeling desperate and needy...and sticking right by their side.
I think the reason he and I frequently butted heads is that I am not that kind of fat chick.
I have an opinion, I'm honest, I'm blunt. I'm smart, and independent, and I won't tolerate mistreatment, and most certainly not from a man. I don't think he liked this too much.
So he's moved on. I know I shouldn't care, but it's more about sadness that I haven't found someone special yet than giving a shit about having him in my life (the toxicity he brought to it was immeasurable). I'm no basic bitch. I only request what I'm willing to give to a partner...and that's a lot. I demand a man's A-game, because that's what I intend to give to my partner. Let him have this new girl...I hope she's prepared for his shenanigans, because if they haven't started yet, they will soon. A leopard can't change its spots...just like I could never, ever be basic.