In an effort to avoid writing about that again, I was going to basically do a copy-paste of a series of five e-mails sent to me on Plenty of Fish over a 24-hour period from one increasingly agitated dude. His growing exasperation over the fact that I hadn't yet responded to him (gasp! The nerve!) finally reached a breaking point ("STILL no response? Not cool!"), which was followed several minutes later with his final e-mail ("Bye bye"), and did I mention this was all within 24 hours? But then I deleted my PoF account in a fit of disgust, and sadly, those particular e-mails were lost forever, so now you will just have to take my word for it. But seriously, dude was nuts.
So, you see, I wasn't going to write about that (that) at all, but then someone felt the need to do the Formal Breakup Phone Call, and for once that someone wasn't even me. This delightful conversation was filled with heartwarming gems like, "I just didn't feel like our relationship was going to flourish" (Bam!), and, "I like you, but you can't spend your life with someone just because you like them. You have to love them." (Kapow!) At which point my instinct for self-preservation kicked in. "Hey, you really don't have to explain all this to me," I said. "I mean, I get it. You're not that into me! I've known that for two months now. You really don't have to explain how not into me you are. Just stop." I asked him why he had called me (he didn't want to just leave things the way they were, although he was starting to think perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea), he said he hoped we could be friends (I said, I don't think so, bud), I said good luck, because it's less heartbreaking than "goodbye forever," and he said it too, and if his voice sounded a bit watery at the end, then good. Let the motherfucker cry, I thought. I had held it together this entire conversation, you see (having had weeks to prepare for it), which of course means that as soon as I hung up I burst into bitter, gasping, hopeless tears and spent the remainder of that fine Friday evening on my bed weeping and huddled in the fetal position. But it was ok, because I didn't have plans anyway. Ba dum bum!
So, now I can finally put a lid on this thing once and for all and close with the fucking end.