So… I had a boyfriend. For about a week.

[Sidebar: To those of you who know me, the shockingly short length of this latest relationship probably comes as no surprise. To those of you who don’t know me, unfortunately (for better or worse), this is how I roll.] 

I broke up with him on Saturday.

And again on Sunday.

And again on Monday.

And once more (with feeling!) last night. I finally relented when he called me for the eighth time and answered. I thought perhaps I just hadn’t been firm and direct enough before. I would spell it out in no uncertain terms. During this conversation, I told him that I appreciated his apology. But no, we would not be dating. No, we would not be getting back together. No, we would not remain friends. Yes, he was starting to scare me.

He got so agitated that he hung up on me. I thought I had finally gotten through to him.

Um. Yeah. No. Not so much.

I woke up this morning to this text:

“Good morning. Have a good day. Stay warm. Love, M—-“

You’ve got to be kidding me.

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