Let’s play a game. It’s called: How many journal entries does it take to get over a guy?
I caved the other day. I checked his Facebook page. The last time I checked it was five months ago and I swore I would never do it again, but somehow, someway, I found myself typing in the letters of his name… and then click, click, clicking. There was a new profile picture of him in front of his beloved car. The one he said he gave up for me so his “ex” could drive it home and not have to ask him for plane money. I thought that was soo big of him. Giving up his prized baby just to get his “ex” out of his house. Ha! It’s laughable now, but at the time I ate it right up. He was the bright light and I was the moth wearing blinders.
What I saw on his Facebook is probably obvious. He is, of course, still with her. While I was having my weak moment, I decided to check out Her Facebook too. Aside from updating her profile picture to one where she’s wearing way too much makeup, she posted a picture of the stupidest tattoo a person could ever get. It’s a lipstick tube. Yeah, lipstick on her forearm. How on Earth could He possibly find that attractive? That’s not him at all. And I noticed something suspicious. She admitted that she was using his Facebook sometimes… Yeah. Why exactly is she logging into his account? It made me wonder if she’s using it to update his status to make it look like they’re still together.
It occurred to me yesterday that maybe the reason he’s staying with her (the girl who cheated on him twice while he was overseas and spent all of his money) is because he has really low self-esteem. I remember there were a couple of times he and I talked and he pointed out how I “deserved better” and “could do so much better” than him. He was constantly asking for reassurance from me that I loved him and that I wasn’t trying to get back at him for hurting me all those years ago.
I think what I’m terrified of most is this feeling that I will never find anyone who made me as happy as I was when I was with him; who made me feel that special. And as much as I don’t want to keep talking about him and thinking about him, maybe I’ve come down with a severe case of word vomit where everyone I talk to is automatically subjected to my constantly complaining about him.
Everything happens for a reason, is what I keep telling myself. Even if I can’t tell what that reason is, it’s happening.