Hi Violet, I’m back in town, shall we have dinner tonight?
Oh, I’m busy this week, maybe next?
I was hoping we could do it before, I am so dying to read that story you wrote about me.
I had to think for a sec.
Had I written about him?
Ages ago I’d told him I was going to. But when I sat down to write, the page was blank.
I’d thought about it, tried to, but then realised – same old guy with the same old bullshit, same old patterns, same old boring.
There was no story.
But I also laughed. Or shook my head. Or did both. As well as saying, let’s not do next week.
Sometimes you just need a reminder that the guy’s ego is bigger than anything else. He reminded me by asking about the story.
He wanted to read that my heart stopped when he called me. (out of the blue)
He wanted to read that I couldn’t wait to fuck him again. (out of the blue)
He wanted to read that he was the best, most brilliant, marvellous lover and I was so happy to have him back in my life. (out of the blue)
And I didn’t need him back.
But I did need the reminder that he was an asshole who served up some fabulous bullshit.
And I really didn’t need the bullshit again.