We went to Dirk's mom's house for a belated Mother's Day celebration last night. I'd done the mother's day shopping because Dirk always feels that he didn't get her the right thing. I'm good at spotting neat things that his mother might like. Compared to my mother, that woman is pathetically easy to shop for. I got her a gift set from Illuminations (which has a store at Potomac Mills now): a gorgeous basket with an orange soda candle, a tangerine smoothy candle, an orange oil lamp, and a set of multi-colored gel candles. She adored it. We sat around eating ice cream and talking about animals. I can honestly say I never thought I'd get along so well with his mother.
My mother didn't like the truffles I got her, even though they're her favorite kind, because she thinks I'm trying to make her fat. She was more gracious about it than I would have expected - she didn't yell or anything. I was really sick when I went shopping, so I wasn't moved to be original for her.
Okay, this is going to be nasty and I apologize to those with sensitive natures, but you should have expected this sort of thing when you saw the name of the journal. Life is gross, people.
For the record, I'd like to state that I never knew my ex was a male chauvinist pig. I mean, he keeps going on about how much more feminine his girlfriend looks than me. I mean, given the general girth and cylindrical shape of her body, I'd have to say that it's easier to spot the fact that I'm female than it is to spot that she's human. So, I'm guessing he's either referring to her pink accessorizing (including her hair) or her penchant for dresses.
Silly pig, don't you know that anything a girl wears is considered feminine? As part of the patriarchy (which you should be fighting against), you have no say as to what constitutes feminine simply because one thing makes you feel all manly and protective and the other doesn't. A girl in jeans is just as feminine as a girl in a miniskirt because she is female and that is what she chose to wear. We are not responsible for your lack of machismo.
As for me looking like one of the Ramones, given the fact that you've openly admitted to fantasizing about your mom, your dad, and *gasp shudder* yourself during masturbation, I should think that me looking like one of them would be a giant turn-on. I mean, look at what you're sticking your dick into when her mom will let you. Every single member of the Ramones is a hottie compared to you and your lady. Even the dead one.
Again, I bow to your incredible ability to revise history to justify a fairly worthless life. You conveniently forget to mention the fact that you were 23, had barely managed to survive on your pathetic little fast food jobs, and were draining me for money because you were so determined to buy whatever bullshit punk album you wanted, despite the fact that you couldn't feed yourself. You would have fucking starved were it not for Katie C--, Dirk, and myself, because you were so completely unable to care for yourself. For Christ's sake, you slept on a bed that had fried chicken bones, underwear with giant shit stains, and dead bugs in it. You also conveniently glossed over the other bullshit you put in that first guestbook entry so that it looked like you were attacked with no provocation. Revisionist much?
As for Katie C--, I remember all the times I would be upset with her and tell you something in confidence, as girlfriends will, and you'd run to her with an embellished version of what I said. I never could figure out what you meant by that little bit of nastiness you exercised, but I finally figured it out after I got rid of you. For whatever reason, you tried to break our friendship up under the guise of "honesty". You have always hurt people and excused it by calling it honesty. People who do things like that don't deserve to be around other people.
It's been nearly five years since we were together, and it's past time for you to move on. I'm sorry that jealousy plays such a large part of your life that you feel the need to make yourself feel better by coming to this site and taking jabs at our imaginary shortcomings. I can't stop your feelings of inadequacy - that's something you have to overcome on your own, and I feel that they're fully justified in light of the way you behave. Move on. The only one who makes you cling to us and your jealousy is yourself.
My final words to you are this: you were born a jackass, you have lived like a retarded jackass, and you will die a lonely jackass. The reason you still live at home is your parents recognize the fact that you will never be able to care for yourself without supervision, and they don't want their eldest son to die of starvation and/or exposure in some alley because he had to buy that rare Stooges album instead of paying his bills or buying some food. You will never be self-sufficient, and I recognized that when I was 18. Beyond the fact that you were lousy in bed, beyond the casual cruelty and paranoia with which you've always treated others, beyond the awful realization that the only reason you'd dated me (a girl who was 16 when you were 21) was that I was too young to know better, that is what made me dump you. I'm very sorry that you'll never have the mental capacity to understand that.