Somebody shoot me.

A single round to the back of the head is all that I ask. No, really, I’m serious about it, because I’m obviously not doing myself any good by continuing to live. (No, I’m not suicidal, let me explain.)

Waaaaaaay back in April (those of you who know where this is going may skip ahead to the next paragraph) I meet this really nice gal (whom I’ll refer to as X). Or so I think. I bust my ass to get her to notice me, do everything I can to get a relationship going, and the day after I tell X how I feel, etc., etc, X blows me off for a guy I’ll refer to as Mr. Ass Vomit. Great. Well, I’ve been fucked over before, and after the appropriate amount of time spent drowning my sorrows in scotch, I’m all better. Or so I think.

X calls me up periodically to tell me how things are with her and Mr. Ass Vomit. I find out that Mr. Ass Vomit is an ex-junkie, hasn’t worked a steady job in years, has a kid (or kids) somewhere, and treats her great. My brain says, hmm, Mr. Ass Vomit, is worthless piece of shit and is a dead-beat dad, plus has a few other problems. Now when X calls, I’m always “short and sweet”, figuring that she’ll get the hint. Nope.

So right after the first of the month, X calls to tell me she’s pregnant with Mr. Ass Vomit’s kid and that he inherited lots of property from a relative and they’re going to be moving out of state and living there. I’m thinking that, hey, perhaps Mr. Ass Vomit isn’t as bad as I thought, and I’ll now never have to worry about her calling me once they move out of state. I’m friendlier than I normally am and say the usual comments one would make if a friend were to call one with similar pronouncements. Then comes Monday.

I get a call from X and she says in one giant rush, “I’ve left Mr. Ass Vomit, had an abortion, and am moving back into my parents house, do you mind if I come over to your place and bring you some scotch and we both get really fucked up while I tell you what happened?” Stupidly, I agree. I mean, come on, I’ve got to find out what’s going on here.

X shows up, hands me the scotch and some “herbal” medicine. Then, X begins to tell me the story of what all happened. It turns out that Mr. Ass Vomit is a bigger piece of shit than I imagined. X tells me that she realized she’d be screwed if she had Mr. Ass Vomit’s kid as he wasn’t taking care of all the others he had, and that there were lots of problems in the relationship. I actually manage not to laugh in her face. I tell her that she didn’t deserve what happened to her, and we spend the rest of the evening with me drinking the scotch (she doesn’t like alcohol), enjoying our “herbal” medicine, and talking about what all’s happened to us since we last saw one another. She announces that she has to leave, I offer her the couch because if she’s too fucked up to drive, I don’t want her behind the wheel. She says she’s fine and leaves.

I’ve had a bottle of scotch at this point, plus the “herbal” medicine, so I’m tired. I go to bed, two hours later, I’m wide awake. Yep, I’m thinking about her. I can’t go back to sleep for hours. When I wake up, I’m cranky and agitated. I spend the whole day that way. When I go to bed that night, I can’t sleep. Tonight, I drink some more scotch (different bottle, of course) and try to sleep. Nope. No luck. Can’t do it. Why? Because fucking X has got me wound up again! I’d written her off and not been bothered by her at all until she showed up at my door. (My own fault, I know.)

Somebody kill me, wouldja? She’s not worth worrying about and I can’t get her out of my damn head now that I know that she’s back in circulation.

<BANG>

Problem solved. Nothing to see here. Move along.

Seriously, you need to cut all ties with her and move on to someone who won’t treat you as badly as she has. There are a lot of women out there looking for a good guy who won’t treat you like this one did.

Or maybe she did.

Anybody that can move as fast as she can (dump the guy, have an abortion, visit you) deserves an Oscar. Forget this piece of slime. She is not worth one second of your time and I can’t believe that you’d even give up one evening listening to her crap. Did she express any sorrow whatsoever that she got preggers and aborted it? Or was she more anxious to talk about how badly she was treated? Does she even know how women get pregnant? Evidently not since she didn’t take any precautions to prevent it. You are NOT the kind of man she is looking for. She doesn’t want someone that will treat her right, she wants a bad boy because that’s how she gets her thrills. If you think you have a future with her, you need to check in to the nearest mental hospital for an extended visit.
Get over it, move on, get a t-shirt.

I can only agree. You don’t owe her anything, and I seriously doubt you could be happy with her. You must accept this and move on. It’s much easier if you make a clean break, and the sooner the better. Stop answering her calls, throw away any stuff that reminds you of her. It’ll hurt more for a few weeks, but trust me, you will get over it.

If you choose to stay friends with her, chances are she’ll hook up with another Mr. Vomit (“Ass” to his friends) eventually, and use you as a convenient shoulder to cry on. A similar thing happened to me when I was in college, and I wish I had called the whole thing off earlier. People don’t change that fast, at least not when you want them to.

BooBoo316, I know that’s what he asked for, but in a case like this you really should empty the clip to make sure. Haven’t you seen any horror movies?

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I believe its the second bottle of scotch that either kills you or gets her out of your head. :smiley:

I for one, refuse to shoot you. But X on the other hand…

Oh for a custom built .338 magnum sniper system.

You should have laughed in her face, it would have made you feel better.

PS: Somehow your story sounds strangely famaliar.

I had the same kind of girl for the longest time. She’d call me whenever she was lonely, or missed me, or was single, just to wind me up like a toy soldier. It sucked.

After talking to her, I’d even be half-convinced that there was some sorta chance for us and everything.

Best thing to do is write that old Dear John letter and tell her how you really feel. Let her down as hard as she does you. And then be done with it.

Best of luck, Chum.

Sam

Oh believe me, I have no intention of taking her back. I said that the moment she bolted on me (okay, okay two days later, but anyways). I’m bitching because I can’t fucking sleep and its all because of her! I don’t even know why I can’t sleep because of her! Hell, when I woke up in the middle of the night on Monday, I wasn’t even thinking about her (I never remember my dreams, so I don’t if I was dreaming about her or not.). All I knew was that I couldn’t sleep and I was agitated. It wasn’t until Tuesday night when I tried to get to sleep that I figured it out. I went through the same shit when we were dating (not being able to sleep) and I wrote it all off as me being a shy, insecure geek who was actually trying to make a relationship work for once.

ultress, in answer to your questions, her and Mr. Ass Vomit were engaged (something like two months after they met) and one of his friends was a “psychic” who’d had a “vision” about how perfect their relationship was going to be, etc, etc, so “naturally” she figures she’s got to get pregnant with his kid. She also seemed to be pretty upset at having the abortion, which is probably what kept me from laughing at her.