Sunday, March 13, 2005

I'm sending the letter on Monday...

Wanna see the letter I wrote to Dave? It's a good one...

Dave,
You're right. We didn't date. We did, however, go back and forth with hanging out alone at your place/not hanging out at your place for 4 months while you tried to figure out whether you liked me or not. You treated me like shit some of the time, and you were really nice to me some of the time. I prefer when you were nice, but I'm kind of glad that you treated me like shit, too. It shows me a side of you that is ugly and annoying, and that's a person I wouldn't want to be with. It would really suck to be so irritated by little things as you seem to be much of the time. Life's too short, man. You should try to enjoy it more. You have great health and have been fortunate financially it seems. Take advantage of it. You might find happiness that way.

But maybe you prefer the grumpiness and the bitter feelings, and yelling at people for stupid, stupid reasons. Unjustified, if you ask me. You're obviously talking about me when you're at the bar and I'm not there. Do you see me freaking out over it? Hell no! Know why? Because I could give a shit, man! I mean, who the fuck cares?

You're manipulative, and you walk all over me, and it's stopping right now. I did NOT talk about you yesterday. I did tell Bill that I was glad you'd left because you were being a dick. Which was true. But the conversation I had with Heidi (the blond chick at the end of the bar that I made friends with) didn't include any info about you. She asked me where you'd gone, I said you'd left at halftime, end of story. I don't know who told you anything else, but I didn't.

Just stop calling and yelling at me, ok? Go see a therapist that'll listen to your crap, because I'm tired of it, really. I will try to avoid the bar while you're there, that's for damned sure. Seems like you might want to do the same thing if you see that I'm there. At least until you can grow the fuck up and stop picking on me.

"Faith"

And that's it. I'm sending it tomorrow via mail, because I don't even want to go near that man, his house, or even the goddammed barstool he sits on. So, so tired of his bullshit...

9 comments:

P. McB. said...

Way to go Faith.

#1 It's not his bar.

#2 It's not his bar.

#3 Do you need a number 3?

He's been an ass, let him feel uneasy being at the bar.

lyn said...

what a fucktard

good letter

and then be done. good riddance.

lyn said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
lyn said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
lyn said...

damn blogger and comments.

zagood said...

good for you girl. screw that guy, he's not worth it.

-z

FaithsTwin said...

right on. You know how I feel on this, but I wanted you to know here, too. =P

I like p. mcb's comment as well. It would be like him saying, "Don't drive on the street you have to drive on to get to the main road 'cause that's the street I have to drive on and I don't want you there..." Fuckin' fuckity fuck.

Ms. Pants said...

Still doesn't seem to encompass the actual anger you have towards him. What are you afraid of losing?

Faith said...

I am only able to imagine the anger that will encompass Dave if he actually opens the letter and reads it. Thinking about how angry he will be at me for calling him out on his manipulation and his high school level mentality when it comes to dealing with "friends" is highly satisfying, I've found.

Anger is an energy...the more of it you put out there, the more you're going to get back, IMO. Writing him that letter last night was very helpful. I called the Twin to discuss whether I should send it or not, and decided that sleeping on it would be the best thing. I woke up this morning wanting to add even more info to it, so I knew that sending it was the right choice. I left it as is, though. I don't have to justify myself to that man any more than I've already tried, and wasting any more effort on it is just so not worth it.

But as of last night, I'm trying to focus on letting the anger go. I'd like to ask my "friends" at the bar to please stop talking about me with him, as his weekly phone-yells are getting out of hand. But I don't care, really, if they talk about me until they're blue in the face. I think the two men that I'm assuming are telling him this crap are actually jealous of the "relationship" that Dave and I had, and that's why they talk about me as they are. If he calls me again, I'll hang up on him. If he tries to talk to me, should we run into each other, I will leave the room.

He's the new definition of fucktard, for sure.

Thanks for the feedback, guys. :) I'm just so glad it's all over, finally.