Dickhead, don't send a girl an outrageous five page text at three am after not talking to her for a month then not return her calls and not speak to her all of the following day and put off having a conversation to go hang out with your douche bag friend and get fucked up, and then decide to call her at some ungodly hour of the night, breathing creepily into the phone because you don't have the balls to say shit.
Granted half of it is my fault for allowing said douche bag to treat me this way and get me all wound up...but I mean...comon! I was doing so well, getting over the shit head without any major breakdowns or embarrassing outbursts of my hatred towards men. In fact the opposite, I grabed life by the nut sack and milked that bitch for what it was worth. I mean, I been meeting people, going to concerts, going to openings, taking art classes, painting, talkin' to some honeys, the whole nine yards. But of course life just has to go and take a giant shit on my face. How could I expect anything different.
Moral of the story being, go call your mother.
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