March Madness

Ya’ll. The Ides of March had me fucked up out here. There’s good reason to beware. Let’s get into it.

March 15th is notorious because it is the day Caesar was assassinated (Et tu, Brute?). Purportedly bad things continue to happen on that day. Considering my love life has been bordering on Shakespearean tragedy since the top of the year, it stands to reason that a significant story line culminated on the Ides.

Well, the bad gal tried to work work work it out with her former beau from January. Bad idea. Really bad, poorly executed–well this is awkward–why is this my life–this is not how any of this works, idea.

He was bitter. Apparently it wasn’t that I’d casually dismissed him on WhatsApp, it seems the fate of our dalliance had been sealed since the snoring debacle. He was beyond offended, indeed he’d felt disrespected, and proceeded to expound on his hurt feelings while sitting as far away from me as possible on my sofa.

It being March and all, I gave it the old college try. I delivered an honest apology, told him I missed his company and his energy, admitted that he was special and I’d been careless. It softened him. He hinted at still being attracted to me. We were on different pages. So the visit took many turns, most notably I explained to him that he now had “the power” in the situation because initially he was pursuing me (he’d met someone new in the interim) and now, much to my chagrin, the tables had turned.

The slighted party in a tiff can either take the high road or be petty as fuck. I think he thought he was rejecting me gracefully but instead his Id kicked in and he ended up offering me some quickie sex. If you all would kindly recall the realities of our first and last attempt, I think you understand why I hit him with the ill curve cause fool me once…you can’t fool me again.

Then there was a terse emotional stand off which included him leaving, me shutting the door in his face, him knocking. He refused to come back inside.

Like who the fuck has the stamina for that kind of craziness?!

He left for good and I text him that no, I did not want to be his friend, I could see where it would lead (with him trying to exact revenge at every turn through cruelty or disregard) and I would just have to accept that it was simply too late to reconcile.

He agreed.

Beware the Ides of March.

End scene.

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