Today I reach a milestone. It's been 6 months since I last saw "Willoughby." (remember him?)
It was really funny. Last week I was standing in my kitchen and thinking, "Wow, I'm actually over him. Go me!" I've been dealing with feelings for him for two years and I was relieved to be able to say I am officially over him. I mean, I still think of him a lot- but I have no desire to be near him. I don't plot ways to accidentally run into him. I deleted him and any family members from my phone a long time ago to remove any temptation I might have to call and... you know just check on his daughter and see how she's doing with her illness...
Anyway, less than 24 hours after having this conversation with myself, he called. What The Heck!? He hasn't contacted me in (three days shy of) six months. I was at a movie when he called (Alice in Wonderland, totally awesome movie. I highly recommend it, but then, I adore Tim Burton, Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter).
He left a message. I deleted it- and the number from the call history. I wanted to throw up when I heard his voice. I got mad, cried, then laughed about it. I know exactly why he called. He wants hookups with my Circus Monkey. Last time he went on a trip I was practically his travel agent and found all kinds of things for him to do. I'm sure that's what he wants again. Sorry pal, you blew it.
There is so much more to this story- but I'm quite content to not go into all the gory details.
I was a little annoyed at God's sense of humor- but I figure if this was some kind of test, I hope I passed. Cuz still, I have no desire to talk to him. I don't care how attracted I am to him- I am mean enough to myself to spend time with people who make me feel even worse about myself. He's an idiot (Willoughby, not God).