Tom #Petty and the #Heartbroken

Let me preface with, I’m a dumb ass.
If I’m honest I was feeling bored and lonely.
And I was on my period.
And I wanted to cuddle.
The only person that I wanted to cuddle, couldn’t care less if I died in a bear attack.
This pissed me off.
And I wasn’t sober. At all.
He hadn’t texted me since March.
March 28th, 11:34 PM.
And why not? I’m awesome company. I fuck him right. I have his back. He can’t say helloooooooooooooooo?
I couldn’t have been more bored, lonely, crampy, jealous, sad or angry.
I needed to feel something.
Tears would suffice.
Hate would feel better than this.
So I started some shit.
The boy that I like is a broke boy. He’s gorgeous and underemployed. He’s an Aquarius and more concerned with the big picture of life and survival. He likes his alone time. He’s flighty. He’s moody and beautiful. He’s way too young for me. A few times, like I would do for any friend, I lent him money since we don’t live in the same town, to come see me. He felt bad about it and said when he had it he would pay me back. But I never cared if he ever paid me. I was just happy to know him. I love(d) him. I wanted him. I wanted to use him to feel better about me.
But he wouldn’t talk to me. Not for a whole month.
Shouldn’t have even.
But I was going to make him.
The dumbest part of me texted him. The sick part. The abused part. The abandoned part. They reached out. No one else could make me feel as good or as bad as he could. And in his absence it was obvious that he didn’t care about making me feel good. Bitch.
So I said:
And I want my money back too, you horrible bastard, as soon as possible. As you can imagine I don’t take well to being made a fool of, especially when I helped you. Not much worse on earth than that. And don’t worry I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to fuck you and if I had a magic wand where I could go back to before I knew you, I’d do it immediately. I’m not even mad, just sad if anything, that people do this kind of shit to one another and wonder why their lives are so fucked up. I’m confident that whoever it is that you are afraid of hurting by not seeing me like you said you would, not letting me have you and your body whenever I wanted like you said you would, is going to get the job of karma done, fucker, so I’m not worried but you owe me. The cash app is fine.
I didn’t think that he’d respond. Why would he? He normally never does when I rant. He told me once you’re not obligated to respond to people. I thought that was so cool. So Pharaoh. I wished that I could have seen his face but if I had my druthers, I would have wanted to be in his arms like I was on March 28th, when he came over and sat on the couch and pressed his lips against mine and said one day, he would be mine and if I didn’t know it, he knew it but that day wasn’t March 28th. I’d have to be patient like some fucking Rip Van Winkle and wait for three eternities but the day was going to come, surely, like heaven does when we die……..
He said:
Yeah just look at all of the ways I’m going out of my way to cause you pain.
I’m a dumb ass because it was on now.
I said:
The first time was 60, the second, 70. I’m not counting the other times or the Christmas money. Look, you’re on whatever the fuck you are on and I don’t want to have anymore to do with it. I hate getting played with a passion and I don’t really have a limit or an off switch on revenge. Getting turned down is one thing but being mistreated is a whole other. I don’t have to take it. You said you’d pay me back so fucking pay me back and I will never speak to you again. simple.
I didn’t know what he would say next. I was scared. I would have blocked me that instant if I was him. I prayed that he wouldn’t. Please god.
He said:
I’m not playing you. I also don’t have any money.
It should have ended there but, I’m not bright. I didn’t hurt enough. He didn’t hurt enough to hurt me. I couldn’t stop.
I said:
Well whoever you are hurting to see me the few times you do, that’s even worse than playing me!
He said:
Stop talking about shit you don’t know anything about.
I loved and hated him even more in this moment. He sounded like a little mean pimp in my mind. What shit? I thought that I was starting shit, there was real shit to be known? Other than he didn’t love me? Other than he didn’t want me? I was miserable yet hopeful. Play with me violently. Say some shit you can never take back that I can hover over our relationship forever in order to get my way with you……
I said:
People don’t mean the things they say and nobody really means anything to each other. Its fucked up. Well I’m not like that which is why I’m suffering at the moment so give me my goddamn money.
He could have said, calm down baby. I said I would give it to you, and I will. I miss you, why are you so angry? I bet my kiss will fix it. I’m on my way. But I lied. I’m clearly like that. I was saying shit I didn’t mean because the bottom line is, if I could get a rise out of him he felt something for me. That would be enough.
He said:
No shit. And you’re not the only one suffering.
He was still in pain. Some other person had broken his heart and I knew about it and I didn’t care about it because I wanted to be the one to make him feel things. If his heart should be broken it should be my doing. It went on forever. The back and forth texting me blaming and him saying shut the fuck up, stupid. He never said those words but the effect was present and thick. I thought that I was getting somewhere but I wasn’t. I was texting and crying and snotting all over the place. He gutted me, good, just the way that I wanted. He gave me the pain that I was craving. I was driving him up the wall. And it wasn’t even like I could see myself ending up with him or anything it was just he didn’t want me so making him miserable seemed like sufficient torture for both of us; him being masochist and me, sadist. But I did want his attention. I did want his affection. I did want to parade him around on a leash and let my friends pet him. I wanted to hurt him but he got to me first. And he was better at it.
I’m a dumb ass.
I couldn’t have been more bored, lonely, crampy, jealous, sad or angry.
But in the worst way, I felt cuddled.
I needed to be cuddled, hard.
My phone was lit, every dude from here to Cincinnati was texting me to take me out on wonderful dates in well lit places on their dime. Every ugly, lonely beta boy was. But the only one I wanted was in my phone at the moment telling me goodnight, telling me he was leaving. It was warm and gooey and horrible.
He may never speak to me again and whatever happens is for the best.
But I hope that he does.
I will always hope that somehow he is just as crazy as I am and can see through my bullshit.
I hope he loves me.
Or hates me.
Either way, same thing. Either way.

5 thoughts on “Tom #Petty and the #Heartbroken

  1. I know this is your blog. Your words. This is what you choose to share. So why do i feel like i am invading your privacy. Even though this is an ugly side of you. I can see the beauty in it too. Get better. Do better. Be better. I am cheering for you!

      1. And maybe one other person on earth will see themselves in the words and stop before it gets as far. Its reactive and preemptive!

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