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2006-04-12 - 6:46 p.m.

HE'S NOT SHORT, BUT HE'S STALKY

Hoooooooo boy. My life is a study in WOW.

I have been withholding some really good dirt for a very long time. I was trying to preserve my dignity by omitting the part about how I've been dating a douchebag. Well...the omission is not over. You're getting the basic facts, but none of the really embarrassing crap that I put up with because frankly, the fact that I stayed in the relationship so long makes me look like a moron. He didn't cheat...or hit...but everything else, yeah. Here's the truncated tale of my stupidity:

Met man, man seemed nice. Dated man a few times. Man showed his ass in short order and proceeded to reveal himself to be a full-blown scrotelick. Broke up, he groveled back in on the condition that he can never be my permanent man and our relationship was reduced to "friends with benefits". Man failed miserably at even this husk of a relationship by being a whiny bitch. I started to hate him, but tried to maintain the casual benefits despite the hate. 'Cause I'm a dummy.
Alas. With each passing day, his assholery got stronger and my tolerance thinner. I had violent thoughts about smashing heavy things into his face. I began to hate him passionately as the rest of my family already did. I wrote an entry about him recently, titled "Open Letter To Assclown" as things got very near the end, and shortly thereafter, I dropped him for good. That happy occasion was marked by the entry "FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!".
All told, I wasted 18 months on a douchebag...and now, he's stalking me.

Yep. Just like celery.

He's blind, though, so it's not that scary 'cause he's a really crappy shot.

He makes a suck-ass peeping tom, too.

I broke up with him in January. He's been sending crazy emails from the beginning. He's still doing it, or was, until two days ago...and he'd graduated to attaching...dare I say it? Weenie pix to his diatribes. Yes, that's what I said. I don't know about you, but nothin' makes me hotter'n a crankshot with an indecipherable manifesto attached. Mmmmm-boy. You betcha. You just haven't lived till you've received an angry email, ham-fistedly typed by a six foot dildo who can't see. It's a treat.

Wouldn't it just suck if he kilt me after I've been so smarmy and carefree about it all?

Yes, it would. Anyway. I'm being careful, and I'll be filing a police report shortly, just to get it documented. Meanwhile, I may email his dear ole Mama and tell her to hang a bell around his idiot neck so I can hear him coming.

No, wait...that's unnecessary. I'm sure I'll smell the stupid.


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