Page 61 of Perfect Date
I stopped listening after that one, but they didn’t stop coming.
I’m grateful, beyond grateful, that he hasn’t shown up at my work. He knows that I wouldn’t handle that well, the drama and gossip being something I’d hate. I don’t know how, but no one has uttered a word about my storming out from the Greedy Goose. I’m just chalking it up to a miracle and not second guessing it at all, because regardless of how it’s come to be, I’m grateful.
My feelings about this whole thing have come about as you’d expect over the last couple of weeks.
First, I was in denial - I talked to Kimberly about it, told her the whole thing that I overheard. Told her that maybe I didn’t really hear what I thought I had.
Denial one-oh-one for sure.
Then, I found a lot of relief in going to the gym. Because they have a punching bag there and I found great satisfaction in imagining the face of Justin before me with each punch. I’d never been more fired up, or had my arms be more exhausted.
Anger was a great stage, and I wish I’d get back there.
I think the hardest for me believe it or not, was the next one. Alone at night, lying in my bed, memories of our brief time together would play through my mind like a movie. I’d smile thinking of conversations we’d had, or the stupid jokes he’d send. I was finally able to laugh at the park incident because I can only imagine what I must have looked like when I came out of that damn port-a-potty.
I wanted Justin back, which is funny because it’s not like I’d ever had him, but in the quiet hours of the night, or early morning depending on how difficult sleep came that night, I’d ask God, “Please just make this hurt go away. I promise I’ll go to church regularly and do a good deed every day if you just make it go away.”
Bargaining.
The tears came fast and steady during this part, but I’m grateful it went quickly, because next up I was more than happy to just never get out of bed.
I pretty much lived in it a whole long weekend. Took a day off work. Littered food wrappings and crumbs were all around me, there was a stain on my pajamas and I didn’t shower in three days. I was gross. Full on depression had set in.
It was when I was watching old episodes of a show on television, one I’d never seen before where participants sign up and agree to be put through insane weight loss and work out regimens in order to lose weight rapidly. The whole point is to obtain what’s called revenge body on the ex that did you wrong.
I could go on and on about all the reasons why this is, in my opinion, not cool. Forget the fact that it’s not healthy and that there’s more to a person than how they look, but this also just breeds the belief that everything should be wrapped up in a person’s appearance. Which is complete bullshit.
I snapped right the hell out of the depressive state I was in.
I’m not in acceptance though.
Hell no.
Instead, I have planned my own form of revenge and it’s going down tonight.
“I’m at your front door,” a text says when I look at the screen after it chimes.
She knows to announce herself because I wouldn’t answer otherwise. I’m happy it’s not Justin anyway - it would ruin everything.
Opening the door, I find Kimberly standing there, hands on hips with a frown on her face.
“Hey what are you doing here?” I ask.
She only sighs and stares at me.
“You know I’m going to be leaving soon, so what’s this about?” I ask but I already think I know. She’s shown glimpses of it over the last couple days.
“Look, I’m just not sure if this is the best idea.”
“Are you kidding me? You weren’t saying that when I came up with it.”
“Well… I’ve had time to think about it more since then.”
“Too bad. It’s too late now anyway,” I move away from the door and let her decide if she’s going to come inside or not.
“You’re wearing that?” She asks and I turn toward her looking at her face trying to gauge by her face what she means by that.
“What’s wrong with it?”
