As fucking predicted

Yes, yesterday was the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life since the last three times this happened, and two of you who are responsible for those are reading this. I trust you both feel bad.

The third prior victimizer is allegedly going to call me tomorrow morning for the first time in 22 god damn months. I am so bent and twisted up inside that if she actually does it will make the latest worst thing in my life worth it. I feel when I hear her voice or look in her eyes like I was born in this world just to feel that moment of perfect joy at being the object of her attention.

The one thing I'll grant is that I never was going to feel that way about Impossible Girl. There was unending shock and wonder about how much we had in common, but no real spark. And I have to say she was remarkably calm, generous, and oh so fucking reasonable in her bullshit explanations for what happened tonight. They just made me want to destroy everything and everyone around me even more. I kept waiting for her to use the word "inappropriate" so I could just completely lose my fucking mind, but that itself would have been too human and emotional.

She's the complete antithesis of Italian Girl in a way that makes it hurt just as bad for entirely the opposite reasons. I can't believe she called me back to talk about it that many times. And I hate her for it.

The two of you reading this are on a spectrum somewhere between these antipodes, and interestingly enough hurt me a bit worse for much, much longer.

I eagerly await the soothing return of numbness and lack of any hope for future romantic happiness. May I never meet another interesting woman again. Statistically speaking there are probably only a dozen or so of them out there, and my odds of avoiding them are pretty fucking good.

Women are the devil. Except, maybe, Italian Girl if she really does call tomorrow. Add to clever haiku and short trips home from a warzone having my soul sliced up by one of her competitors as a means to make her care again. It's almost worth it. Overwhelming pain to get relief from long-term pain to feed inevitable greater never-ending pain.

I just talked for an hour to the sweetest girl I ever dated who I broke up with for fairly shallow reasons. I should have married her. I never, ever will. I deserve all of this and more. Bring on the next one. But not before the morning.

I envy heroin junkies.

Update: I just remembered that my boss called me today. Apparently there were eight, eight, EIGHT fucking DUIs in our brigade Friday night. Two of them may have been fellow staff officers, and he was required to call his subordinates and tell them not to drink and drive. Don't worry about me, sir, my wedding is within walking distance of my hotel, and the girl I'm seeing after is coming to the hotel.

I had a moment tonight, after the second phone call, where I wanted nothing so much as to get my rental car and drive somewhere as fast as I could until the cops caught me. The only thing that stopped me is that I don't have anywhere at all to go. Italian Girl isn't in town. I think she doesn't live at her old address anymore, anyway. The only person in this town who still lives at a place I know I can find is two floors up fucking his new wife.