I checked my LinkedIn stats today and it looks like the beautiful boy checked my profile. Guess he finally learned how to use the internet (inside joke).

Wonder if he’ll still keep our date now that he’s seen that I graduated from college when he was, what, one year old?

I texted midday to see how he was — he said he was pretty fucked up and was going back to the hospital again to check in. Apparently he has a 3-inch gash in his head, lost a lot of blood, doesn’t remember much about what happened. Again, if true, horrible and I do wish he’d let me come check on him. But he refused again… called me when he left the hospital and we chatted for a minute, he did sound really out of it.

Either way, though, it’s kind of fucked up. A) I don’t trust him enough to believe this, and that’s fucked up; or B) he doesn’t trust me enough to want me there to help and care.

This has a bad feeling, dear reader. I can’t put my finger on it, but there it is. In person he dispels it but I haven’t seen him since Friday afternoon.

Oh, and the beautiful boy wrote today and asked to take me to dinner. I was there, not hearing back from Kyle, getting pissed I couldn’t make other plans and feeling a little guilty about wanting to. I put him off until later in the week — one way or another, this thing is getting settled tomorrow. If Kyle and I agree to try to sort this out, I’ll break the date. If not, I’ll have a date to console me.

Somewhere along the line I realized I couldn’t have gone out with him tonight or tomorrow anyway. I still have that fucking hickey.

I REALLY HAVE TO STOP DATING CHILDREN.

i don’t hear from b-boy for, like, weeks on end. i’m in the sloughs of despond over ex-boy and i can’t even get laid.

where did we leave off? ex-boy arrives, fucks me, then tells me about the new girl he’s dating. wtf. not that i wouldn’t have fucked him anyway, i probably would have, but it should have been my choice. i spend the entire long weekend miserable. he’s fine in the morning until the west coast wakes up, then he’s insufferable until bedtime, when he wants to have sex again. fml.

somewhere during or after that weekend i realized it’s long past time to end this. maybe everyone else on earth already knew that, but really, my feelings only need to get hurt a couple of dozen times before I sort that out.

and i spend the next few weeks completely miserable. do we really need to hear about that?