He Asked About Me

His friend asked about me. This particular friend and I don’t like each other at all. He wanted to know how I’m doing. But he asked Lil Miss and she wasn’t falling for it. Apparently, she told this guy that MyDude did me dirty and I’m doing better without him. He also told her that MyDude is living with his baby’s mom. Of course he is. I knew that even as he vehemently denied it.

I wonder how she would like to know who he was calling when he had my phone. She doesn’t care, I guess. He’s done her dirty for years and she welcomes him back happily after every time he runs off with someone else (me, for example). He can’t live on his own and she’s his safest bet. They deserve each other.

I’m angry that he was asking about me though. He has no right to any information about me. He has no right to look into my life and get any satisfaction from my pain. I wish many bad things upon him for that. I want my karma to chase him down and set his life on fire. He doesn’t deserve to know about me. He doesn’t deserve to be happy at all.

The utter gall of him sending someone to ask after me. What a piece of work. What an asshole. I should tell her. But I won’t. Fuck him.

I wish she hadn’t told me about that conversation. I wish I didn’t know about his curiosity. He rode away to be with someone so toxic that she stays drunk and has a restraining order against him. I hope they’re both miserable.

On a lighter note, I’m going back on the dating app. I’m lonely and those guys are thirsty. Might as well have some fun as a singleton.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

%d bloggers like this: