OK, I admit: defeat.

These are the horrible things we do. We adopt words into our vocabulary, we add artists to our favorite lists on profiles, we rent movies that we otherwise wouldn't have rented. We watch these movies, naively expecting a phone call during the screening. Nevermind that it is a Friday night, and there is no way that he knows your husband is gone for the weekend, and nevermind that you KNOW for a fact that he and the new GIRL have attended a concert of one of your favorite bands earlier in the evening, which is by the way, composed of several of your mutual friends...... despite all of these things, you really think he will call. And then. The title of this blog should point you in the direction I go next...

The despicable side comes out. You call the number. You log into his voice mail. You have done this much, much earlier in the evening-- maybe the afternoon? And you have noted he has two new messages. You hung up then, thinking, "hm." Profound, I know. You also (is this dirty or despicable? Or both?) checked his new girl's voice mail, and learned she had one new message. Let's nevermind how you know how to do this, for both of them. Let's just call you dirty and despicable and not ask questions now, shall we? But now? At almost 1 in the morning. When you logged in again to check. His messages? Gone. Checked and deleted. No messages. Hers? ONE NEW MESSAGE.

What does this mean? Well you don't have to be a rocket fucking scientist to figure out that he's fucking her tonight. Maybe right when you checked? And maybe that's what you deserve. He has told you time and time again he'd love to have you by his side. Would drop her in a heartbeat. But can you blame him? Thus far, you haven't shown any signs of leaving the dear (if somewhat inept in areas) husband. What the fuck else do you want him to do?


Things to tell yourself late, late at night

OK. So ladies? Or men. I suppose, men too, that are in this situation. But are you? Feh, different post. Let's stick with ladies for now. When we are looking for messages. Again. Everywhere. Or signs. And we find none? Let's read this instead, shall we? You are the only one thinking about this right now. He is with her, and she just got back from somewhere, and they will leave the party tonight together, and they will fuck like mad. And will you be there? No you will not. Will you be in his head? No you will not. Will he call you? At least be motherfucking realistic for god's fucking sake. NO. He will not. You want to keep the phone by your bed? Fine. Then you can talk to your other dumbass drunk friend at 2am and don't bitch about it. You are just like that doormat you despise so much, aren't you? Because even though it's suddenly crystal clear, you are really powerless to resist anyway. The glimmer of hope. It holds you. It has its way with you. Fucking kick that bitch in the shins, you idiot. Not tonight, I guess. Fuck.

Maddening searches for non-Internet-y friends

Or lovers. Yes, let's go ahead and admit, lovers. Damn him and his non-unique name having, non social networking presence, non Flickr surfing ways. Damn him to hell. And damn his new girlfriend to hell too. And her witty little Myspace profile as well.

Oh. Did I mention I'm married? Yep. That was probably a good reason for him to end it, wasn't it? I suppose I should be more on board with the whole thing.