Dating: DON’T DO IT

Dear Ex Boyfriend,

Tonight someone asked me what you are up to these days. I told them you were probably burning in hell somewhere. They looked at me like I was crazy, but we both know it’s where you belong.

I just want you to know that my life is fantastic, and even when it’s not it’s still better than yours. I also want you to know that thinking of you no longer makes me feel sick, sad, or regretful. Actually it makes me feel quite witty, as you are an easy target, and I am a bitch.

This is a long overdue letter.

They say “Don’t get mad, get even.” but how can I get even with you for making my life suck for…a really long time? I can’t really. Unless I followed you around and did evil things like letting the air out of your tires, egging your (parent’s) house, sicking my big bully man friends to beat you up, or getting you fired. The thing is if I did all that shit, I’d obviously not be over it, and you would win because I would suck as a person (and have a criminal record).

So I figured out how to get even with you - make the rest of my life twice as awesome as it was when you made it suck. I accepted that I blew a good deal of time on an idiot that I had to cut loose (that would be you). I made good friends, and a lot of mistakes (you know they are good friends when they let you do this without disowning you). I try hard to take good care of the people that care about me. I make myself do things that scare the shit out of me, like taking a job that is exciting but unknown, going new places alone, or telling the people in my life how I really feel about them. I am as honest and nice as I can stand to be; There are a lot of assholes out there - a good deed goes a long way. And when things start to fall into place, I try not to fight it.

For you I would suggest not picking your nose in public anymore because it’s disgusting. I would also suggest: quit being an idiot - money isn’t everything, never ever treat someone you care about like you treated me, and for the love of god, learn about personal hygiene. You are gross.

Somewhere deep down I’m sure I miss you a little bit, and I don’t hate you at all anymore.

I am finally at peace with our debacle.

Goodbye,
Ramona

Dear Diary,

I have never been asked on a proper date. This is a curious realization considering I theoretically write about date-ing. The root word there being date, which is Greek for “big waste of time”.

Although I haven’t been asked on a date, I’ve been on dates - I just ask other people on them. It usually turns out pretty well too. I think it’s total crap that women are like ho hum I’ll just sit here until someone asks me out. It’s not like you go out to the mall and wait for some sales person to hand you something to buy. GO FOR IT. Get in there like it’s your size bin at a shoe sale! No more of this pussyfooting around.

Speaking of pussyfooting around. You might be wondering why I don’t get asked on dates, yet a decent number of people seem to be interested in me. Well, I’ll tell you a secret…I HAVE NO IDEA. It’s not like I walk up to the first tall fine man (as if there are ever several to choose from?) I see at a bar and purr something in a seductive voice that includes the words “you”, “dinner”, and “Friday night” No, that is not how it works. I might be ballsy, but that’s a boldness that only Jack and Jose can give you (Daniels and Cuervo, of course). And at that point you’re slurring not purring, and, well, just forget it.

I don’t go scaring men off like that, but something must be going wrong. They seem to get hooked and dick around until I lose interest. Then if I find myself particularly into them I ask them out. Then they are consistently surprised and excited. This makes NO SENSE. It’s also exactly what happened with The Good Samaritan. but Dear Diary I have grown weary from thinking about all this stupidity, so I’m going to go have lunch and tell you about him another day, promise.

♥Ramona

Dear Diary,

Today I went to the grocery store. It’s been a long long time since I went to a grocery store. You see, Diary, I live in a pretty rough area of town, and when I go to the store I get harassed.

The deli man at my grocery store used to have a crush on me. One day he followed me around the produce section and gave me his phone number. He called me “Honey” and “Beautiful” which is all well and good if you’re…say…Josh Duhamel. BUT in the instance of this particular 40ish deli man with 5ish teeth - NO.

I switched grocery stores.

Another time I was getting ready to walk through the parking lot at night when a car full of young Hispanic men started yelling lewd things at me. I had to get my groceries out of the cart and walk to my car while they yelled. I was unnerved and upset.

So, tonight I gave the grocery store another shot. I drove about 20 minutes away from where I live - past a LOT of grocery stores, to go to one where I thought I could shop in peace. The grocery store was nice and clean and shiny. I didn’t know where anything was and my list was all unorganized, so it took a while, but I didn’t care cause I wasn’t weirded out about being there. I spent over an hour shopping and puttering around, reading labels and such. It was late on a Sunday so there weren’t too many other people around. Checking out didn’t take long, and then I hauled everything to my car. I breathed a sigh of relief and was feeling quite pleased with myself as I got in the car.

Then I noticed a guy standing right outside my window. He knocked.

I had trouble closing my trunk just moments before so I thought maybe it had popped open, or maybe I left something in my cart. I opened my door a crack (STUPID in hindsight) and asked what he wanted. He was a short black man, maybe 30ish, wearing a long winter dress coat. He didn’t look too menacing, and then he said ” I saw you and I thought you looked nice. Can I give you my phone number? I told him I didn’t think my boyfriend would like that very much. Lie, obviously. He asked where I was from, what I studied in school, where I went out dancing. I answered with one word answers. You see, I was still answering because I refuse to let them smell the fear.

I was very polite and upbeat until I got rid of him. Once he went away I sat in my car for a minute feeling freaked out . All I want is groceries! I just need to eat, that’s it. I mean, how long was he watching me? I looked nice? It’s flattering, but it’s frightening, and sometimes I’d really just like to be left alone.

♥Ramona