I’ve been trying my hardest to not write about my relationship woes. But after a bottle of rhum, two hours of sleep, a ten-minute shower at 1am, a mad dash to get from Katipunan Avenue to Makati (while listening to Aimee Mann, Suzanne Vega, and Norah Jones), slipping on what’s supposed to be non-slip steps, scarring my shin, and still ending up NINEFUCKINGMINUTES late for work— please. I need this.

D, my soon-to-be-ex lover (*crosses fingers*), and his girlfriend are having problems. This should make me happy, but it doesn’t; because he is pre-occupied with his girlfriend troubles, he is neglecting one very important person: me. You know, the girl he keeps on the side? The girl who gives him the best head and best sex ever?

I asked him if he wanted me to distance myself from him for the meantime, while he sorts out his problems and stuff. That conversation ended badly, with him saying that I just added to his problems. I told him he only cares about himself and his girlfriend. Am I right, or am I fucking right.

And I’ve had it. I have no idea what in god’s name I was telling him during last night’s drunken stupor, but I must have gotten to him real good. I managed to save two of his messages:

STOP!!!! Tama na

Stop nga nakiusap ako ayaw mo now stop

And now he won’t reply to my sober text messages and my sober e-mail. What a fine young man I chose to emotionally attach myself to.

ENOUGH ENOUGH ENOUGH. And now I will play the bitch and date one of his friends (who, by the way, momentarily exited his Saturday night drinking spree with his buds so he could drive me to work. D hasn’t even been to the apartment yet!) even though he’s not cute.