The Facebook Bandit Strikes Again

For those of you that read this blog on a regular basis, you know that I was recently dumped by my boyfriend of seven months...via Facebook. Then, to ensure I wasn't confused about the status of our relationship, he left all my belongings on my doorstep. I didn't hear from him again.

To distract myself from the annoying, but unavoidable pain of getting over someone, I focused on expanding the content of this blog and bugging all my friends to come up with suggestions about how I could make it better. I even successfully auditioned for a salsa performance team in LA, and accepted an invitation to fly to Chicago and attend a fancy-schmancy charity ball as the date of very hot MBA student. I was convinced that if I kept busy, I wouldn't notice how much I missed J-Dogg, and I wouldn't think about how he just walked away from me without so much as a look over his shoulder. Cuz that plan ALWAYS works...

Well, 'the plan' was going fine - or at least I wanted to believe it was going fine - until I received the fateful text message. After two and a half weeks, he finally made contact. A few minutes after the text he was at my doorstep...to talk. Standing only inches away from J-Dogg, with a variety of emotions surging through my body, I knew that beyond the anger and hurt, 'the plan' hadn't dimmed my affection or attraction.

He explained (note: explained, not apologized) that while he had handled things poorly (understatement of the century), my letter made him feel like I didn't trust him. He had a point.

I didn't worry about him cheating on me with another woman, but his inconsistant communication and wandering eye made me doubt his feelings. It's an age old truth - negative comments or actions are about 200 percent stronger than the positive ones. He spent three days dealing with a recent life-drama I'd experienced, but then he didn't respond when I tried to schedule time for us...or when I texted to say "goodnight." While the former built my trust, the latter knocked it back down again.

We didn't resolve anything, but our conversation wasn't horrible. When we parted, he texted me almost immediately. Even though I knew I was embarking on a slippery slope, we went back and forth for a bit and I asked if I could borrow the Entourage DVDs we'd been watching before the break up. He agreed and I walked the 30 feet to his apartment to pick them up. It felt so normal, so comforting to open the door to his apartment and greet him. I wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to him on the couch and watch a movie. The DVDs were in his room, and although I was sure I was going to start crying in the three seconds it took him to reach up and grab them off his shelf, I managed to shuffle to the door before completely losing control.

I'd barely made it down the stairs outside his apartment when I heard him open the door and call after me. A few seconds later he was grabbing my hand, spinning me around and kissing me.

ShitFuckDamn.

My body immediately surrendered to his kiss. It was one of those crucial moments where I had the opportunity to be strong, but I didn't take it. I had a split second to show him that it would take a lot more than a kiss for me to open myself up to him again. But of course I didn't take that opportunity because what I really wanted was for him to keep kissing me forever.

The kiss ended and I quickly started walking away before any words could be spoken. I practically ran back to my apartment, but I didn't go in, I just stood outside the door. I stood there thinking about how angry I was at myself for letting him kiss me. I thought about how angry I was at him for not realizing how badly he hurt me, or what a fool he made out of me - and our relationship - by ending things the way he did. Did he not realize how disrespectful it was? I tried to calm down, but there were too many thoughts and feelings...

The next thing I knew, I was marching back to his door and pounding. I knew he was probably already in bed and I certainly wanted to make sure he heard me. He opened the door and I said, "I have something to say." From there it's a bit of a blur...I think I mentioned how it was unfair for him to assume that he has ANY right to kiss me after what he did to me...that he lost that right about the same time he changed his F-ING relationship status to "single." I'm not sure what else came out of my mouth, but it was reminiscent of the first time I got drunk off hard lemonade...I felt a little sick, and then suddenly everything came pouring out. In closing I told him that I was trying to move on. His response? "If you're moving on, why are you here now, fighting with me?"

SHITFUCKDAMN. He had a good point. Again.

I didn't want him to make any good point. It was my turn - and my RIGHT - to be angry. So I fired back with the reliable, "well you broke up with me via Facebook, so I never really got a chance to tell you my thoughts on the situation. Clearly I should go."

As I turned to walk out, he put his hand on the door and leaned against it...positioning me between the door and his face. Part of me wanted to scream at him for being such an idiot for breaking up with me...and part of me wanted him to rip my clothes off. I tried to open the door, but he is a foot taller than me and about 100 pounds heavier...it wasn't going to happen. So with all of my strength (my roommate and sister will both attest to the fact that I'm freakishly strong for my size), I elbowed him in the stomach. When he stepped back in surprise, I ripped the door open, and spit "coming here was a moment of weakness, but I can assure you it won't happen again." He slammed the door behind me so hard that the entire building shook.

I know I stepped on my whole point about his immaturity the second I waged physical war on his ribs. I certainly have my faults, and I don't always go about things the right way, but I would never have been able to do something as heartless as dumping him via online social network. Heck, I'll bet the principal, the prom queen and everyone in home room knew we broke up before I did.

I'd wanted to make peace with him. I thought that if we talked, I might get some closure and stop missing him so much. Moving on really does seem like my only option, but I can't resist thinking of all the romantic things he could do to try and win me back over the next couple weeks...especially because it's both Valentine's Day and my birthday. Part of me hopes he'll suddenly grow up, grow a pair and show me that he loves me. But the other part of me knows it's a lost hope because for him its about pride, about not admiting that he made a mistake, about keeping the upper hand. He's a smart guy and I'm sure that eventually he'll figure out that those things don't really matter, but unfortunately he probably won't realize what he had until someone else has come along...someone who has no problem telling me, showing me and reminding me how they feel.