A long one while he's away.

It's been a while since I've visited, my cunty lovelies. I've got some news on ol' Joe and his fucking douchebag bitch of an ex, Susan. The last four or five days have effectively slammed the door on whatever "friendship" or communication Joe and Susan had.

Last Thursday Joe went out to dinner with her to discuss how to get rid of the car they'd bought together. At the end of the evening he told her that he didn't think they should contact each other or hang out socially for a little while. As explained to me, this is because it makes him feel weird, like she's stuffing down all of the anger and sadness attendant with the breakup of a serious relationship in an attempt to be "cool." (This "let's be friends!" approach was Susan's idea.) Not to mention that being around her just generally makes him feel uncomfortable.

"That's cool," said Susan. "Yeah, that's fine. A moratorium."

"Exactly," said Joe, free at last.

Cut to the following evening. After meeting up with some friends, Joe and I headed to a neighborhood hipster dance club. Guess who's there? Susan.

I didn't see her at first. I didn't even know she was there until Joe whispered in my ear at the bar, "How do you feel about this?"

"Oh, I dunno. The music is kinda sucking, it's pretty crowded, not sure how dance-y I'm feeling," I said, oblivious.

"No. About Susan. She's here."

(Insert gong sound here as my jaw drops.)

"I'm going to the bathroom," Joe said, and disappeared.

I turned away from the bar and joined our friends, wincing. Approximately 20 seconds later, Susan and her new beau, Derek, sidled up to the group.

"Everyone, this is Derek!" she chirped over the din. She was standing right next to me. ME, the Foul Temptress who had a part, however small, in the demise of her relationship with Joe.

"Derek, this is GWAK, Joe's girlfriend," she said without looking at me.

"Hi," I croaked as I shook his hand.

I turned and scanned the crowd for Joe. I caught him looking desperate down the side of the bar. He motioned "let's get the hell out of here" with his head, and I scurried away.

We ended up spending the next couple hours in the opposite corner of the club, generally having fun and drinking cheap beer. Occasionally an ambassador would join us from the other corner for a smoke or two. Susan and Derek never did.

As Joe and I left the club, he received a text: "Thanks for being such a dick to us. It was so nice of you to remind me of my high school days . You could have at least said hello."

At this we, and a mutual friend, exploded. After a few minutes of raving at the lunacy of this message (keep in mind we were a bit wasted), it was decided that his best, most irritating course of action would be to not do anything at all. And he didn't.

Two days later he got another text: "Sorry about the text Friday, but you could have at least said hello." Yeah. Got it.

She sent him an email yesterday: "So, which one of us is going to broach the subject?" He finally responded: "Apparently you aren't getting the hint that I don't want to talk about this."

Ten minutes later, le deluge: Susan lost her shit. The next email he received was a scorcher, telling Joe that their entire relationship was an embarassment; that he's a selfish, immature brat; that after the car is sold she will never speak to him again; that his existence is an insult.

All of this because he didn't say hello to her and her new boyfriend at a crowded club at midnight Friday night. And, of course, because he wasn't moved to reply to her texts, which were obviously designed to provoke a response, and thus keep them connected.

Joe was shocked, but also relieved to see this awful side of her at last. The psychology of it is so pleasingly transparent: Joe's request for an indefinite end to the stupid "friendship" thing threw Susan completely off balance. She'd lost her grip on Joe. When he didn't greet her like a "friend" on Friday night, she fucking exploded. When he didn't respond to her needling texts, she went supernova-nuclear because he wasn't giving her that satisfying little tug back that would have said, "I'm still here."

He's gone, bitch.

***

And, since this post is getting mega-long, a brief, yet even more pleasant, update: A couple weeks ago I finally screwed up all of my courage and blurted it out: "I think I love you." Relief washed over Joe's face. "I love you, too. I've been wanting to say it for a while now."

I don't know when I've felt that good and giddy and insane and happy. And I still do. We can't seem to stop saying it to each other.

Sorry to rain sunshine and glitter and baby kittens on the shit parade that is LIAC, but it's true. It's real - I fucking fell in love with the boy of my dreams and he loves me back.

I really can't believe this has happened to me, a grumpy, sarcastic, jeans-and-a-t-shirt girl. I never, ever thought it would. I feel so lucky.