He irks me in a special way that only a few have done previously. It is said that love and hate are virtually the same thing. That the phenomena of hate is that deep down there is love. Whatever the case, this week alone, I counted about three times where I had visions of kicking him in the face. Yes, me, the girl who does not fight, wants to judo-chop him into the fetus position. Why? Well I'm not sure. Maybe it's because when I'm perfecting minding my business, here he comes around the corner trying to stop my inevitable progress. Saying things like 'you're my soulmate', 'you never give me a chance' or my favorite, 'you hurt me when you said that'. Or could it be how we literally go around and around? Our 'relationship' is cyclical and oh, so predictable. It goes something like this: a call from nowhere, 'I was just thinking about my baby'. Then the 'let's grab something to eat, I know how much my baby likes to eat.' From there, we usually meet up for food (you know phat girls got to eat!). During the meal, when my senses are down, here comes the 'let's do it, let's just do it'. And then the, 'I miss you'. After that the, 'I know I've hurt you and I understand that, I'm sorry'. I can't forget the, 'I miss yo crazy ass! You're the only person that makes me laugh, you're so silly. MJ, I love you.' By then I'm all full and feeling the euphoria of a free meal, next thing I know, I'm actually considering it! Maybe if I can control my eating habits, this shit wouldn't happen!...something to consider. In the car, sitting outside of my building is where I get confronted with the awkward kiss attempt. If you could see my face right now...
Anyway, all of this brings me to last night. He had IM'd me on Facebook, 'hi'. I responded with attitude, 'yes?'. Then he logged off. I then commenced to writing him this long, irate and hostile, quite harsh Facebook message. After typing and proofreading it (there is never an excuse for bad grammar, spelling or punctuation), I deleted his name as the recipient and sent it to Antoine instead. His response, 'all I can say is you sound crazy. The first few lines are harsh. Delete it, don't send it.' My mind did not think it was that bad, but of course she's the one who wrote it. But something in my heart told me I could do better. I guess that's why before clicking send, I sent it to Antoine, not my intended target. I am well aware that at times my tongue and pen can be like a heat-seeking missile. I cannot remember the message verbatim, but I do know I accused him of being a psychopath, even providing a full definition in case he was unaware of what the word meant. I also dropped some well placed 'F-bombs' to emphasize my point. Plus, asking him how an 'asshole such as yourself would get rid of you?' Making the point that I wanted him to get ghost and leave me alone. The message started with 'what is your purpose?'
Anyway, I am glad I have the wisdom to get things off of my chest with a third party as opposed to saying what I really feel. Twenty-year-old MJ would have, at 30, well it just does not seem as important to put everybody that annoys the shit out of me in their place. In fact, I have become more creative in my need to rid myself of undesirables.
I will send this someone a text, letting him know about this post. He once said he wanted me to write something about him. Being the masochist that he is, I'm sure he knew it would be negative. I think that's part of the joy he gets in even contacting me. He knows we're not right for one another. He even finally verbally admitted it, as I have said before, I can do better and he is not good enough for me. But that just titillates and tickles his fancy even more.
So if YOU ARE reading this, welcome to my most inner thoughts. Sit down, have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Because this is the last time I will allow you to infiltrate my emotions, irk the hell out of me and overall lounge up in my head. Get real comfy. Wrap yourself up in a smurf-blue snuggie if you have to; this is your day. This is your moment. After this day. At the end of this last keystroke, you will cease to exist to me. Now go lunch on that!