Today was a weird day. After spending a whole weekend holed up in my apartment with what can only be described as a turn of the century consumption-like cough, I was extremely mopey. Mopey about my poor respiratory health, mopey about the slow weekend, mopey about winter in general, and stupid-mopey about my recently ended four-year relationship.
I was definitely looking forward to my brand new Sunday ritual of watching the Girls episode with my roommate and our friends. I love cable television, and since we don't have a living room it only exists in Rachel's room. I'm trying to limit my abuse of her cable box twice weekly so I love and savor the time I have with it. I also had a bottle of wine to crawl into tonight, so everything seemed to be looking up.
And then, suddenly, I get these tweets from an unfamiliar handle. Which was exciting, because I don't know anyone who actually uses twitter for anything else than jokes said in 140 characters or less.
Oh no...that's...my...ex's...mother? Is this real life?
:-l
:-(
:'-(
:''-(
I haven't been bullied via social networks since the days of AIM and my Regina George best friend thought it was funny to pose as flirty fake boys that wanted to go see Lord of the Rings with me and hold hands.
But it's 2013, and I just got verbally harassed by ex-boyfriends mom. On twitter. I haven't spoken to her since the breakup and even sent her an Edible Arrangement as an apology for the very brief moment she was involved in the mess. And, you know, I really hope that someone loves me enough to send me an Edible Arrangement someday, because I would love nothing more than to eat some chocolate dipped strawberries made to look like a beautiful floral arrangement.
This should be hilarious. I should be relishing in this obvious rude and very public weirdness. I should love that Will is pretty embarrassed about this random episode of spite from his own mother.
But I can't, and I'm not. It's like this perfect recipe of justification for the whole breakup was just served to me on a platter, but my neurosis about it is getting in the way. My self depreciating mopey daydreams from earlier in the day definitely included imagining Will bringing a new girl to Cleveland, introducing the new girl to his brother, to his mom, to his dad, his dad's dog, and everyone loving her. Especially the dog.
Now it's even easier to imagine, with the added script of his mother going out of her way to mention what an awful witch his ex-girlfriend is, and how awful of a human being I am. And how my dumb my haircuts look on my dumb tattooed body.
Isn't it enough that I'm already heartbroken over the whole thing in the first place?
I just moved to New York, got the job of my dreams in the first four days of being here, and am carving out a pretty awesome new life for myself, and STILL I feel gross and awful about the whole thing. I didn't even want to break up, I wanted to work it out, at least for the first week after the big fight.
But you know what, why? We're young people in their 20's. We had no intention of getting married, having kids, or "settling down". Whatever that could mean for people in their 20s. Or at least that was my understanding of the relationship. Will was pretty verbal about that throughout, and so was I. We had grown apart and had a bit of an ill-timed blowup when that sad fact dawned on the both of us. After the drama and the crying we separated on amazingly good terms. No moms involved.
Until tonight. Yikes. Yikes all around.
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