Ass from the Passt

I believe I got half of my packing done yesterday… I hope… because I have left the other “half” to be completed tonight.

My rides home have been more depressing this week. Knowing that each day I pass by Main Beach will be one less time that I shall have the opportunity to do so… although with the flux of tourists increasing it also reminds me of why I am leaving. I drive and watch carefully, attempting to navigate around dumb-asses hanging cameras out the window and slamming on their brakes so excited to see the ocean. Park your fucking car, you’ll get a better shot, and I will be less likely to kill you.



In lieu of going out for food, and needing to deal with the traffic any longer last night, I opted to instead go home and have the oh-so-healthy dinner of Dominos Pizza… yes the life of a single girl in OC can be quite glamorous at times.

In further attempts to procrastinate my packing last night, I started chatting with T, a guy I used to see date moved across country with lived with… it’s kind of hard to describe us… years ago. Oddly the same day I blogged about him just over a month ago, he randomly contacted me (said that he Googled my name) . Umm… so T, if you read this blog… then hey… what’s up?

I was younger and didn’t have the ultra high level of self-esteem that I currently do. Silly girl… silly because I allowed him to treat me like someone I wasn’t. I learned a lot from him. He was the one with whom I was riding in the car with one day and I realized that I was more lonely sitting beside him than I was when I was by myself. I decided at the moment to never allow that to happen again.

So, until about a month ago, we didn’t talk for six years. He kept our dog and although occasionally thoughts of the pooch and he crossed through my mind, I never attempted to contact him, nor would I have known where I could.

Then he pops back up…

After seeing pictures from my recent trip, he tells me he can't believe how skinny I am (although I was thinner while with him), he tells me that my boyfriend looks like a “good guy”, he tells me that I can stay at his house while he travels on business so I have a place to stay when I get to Portland and I can hang out with our dog.

We begin talking about where his friends are and what they have been up to in these last years. There is a married couple back home that he is friends with, although I knew the wife for several years before I met T. I mentioned, “I haven’t seen them in forever! How are they? How is she?”

He replied, “I don’t know how she is. I am not allowed into their house.”

“Why is that?”

“She says I can’t come in because she doesn’t like the way I treated you.”

I laughed… I guess sometimes justice is served… even if I wasn’t the one to do it.

He tried to treat me like a stupid girl a couple of times in our brief conversation… I wouldn’t allow myself to regress to the girl I was years ago. I suppose although time can heal some old wounds, it takes a lifetime for someone to unlearn being an asshole.