I'm an idiot. And the writers over at "He's Just Not That Into You" told me so. I should have read the book a long time ago but never got around to it til now.

The talk a couple of Sundays ago went horribly. He was uncommunicative. I couldn't get more than 3 sentences out of him.

Let me start at the beginning. He phoned Sunday afternoon at 1:15 and said "So...I said I'd call you on Sunday." Like I was supposed to jump up for joy and hit a note on the tooteroo. I said "Yeah." He said "Do you want to come over and we'll talk?" I said "sure."

I went over and walked in, sat down, and he was looking at me expectantly like I was the one who called him and summoned him. I said "you wanted to have this week-long break to "put things in perspective"...you wanted to do all sorts of thinking...so what have you decided?" And he says "I don't know."

It just so happened that I was pissed off, and went over there prepared with a pointform list of the things we needed to discuss because I have the shittiest memory of all get-out.

I went down the list and explained everything til I was just about blue in the face and asked him if he could contribute to the conversation.

he says "I don't know what to say."

He spent a whole fucking week contemplating life and death and all the mysteries in between and has the brass balls to say "I don't know what to say"?

Yeah, I was pissed. I said "I've said everything so far, it's your turn to tell me how you feel please." I was being nice about it no matter how much steam was coming out of my ears. So much steam in fact that my hearing aids were moist from the condensation, I swear.

He sat there in silence.

And need I point out that the whole time I was pointing out my issues and his issues and apologizing for the wrongdoings I had done etc etc etc... he didn't look at me once while I talked.

He did, however, laugh and say "I can't believe I ever thought you were jealous." That's it.

It was the single most disappointing experience in my life. And when he finally summoned the courage to say "I just don't think it's working. I don't have the energy anymore." I was ready to fly off the handle and right out the fucking door.

So I asked him "what do you mean you don't have the energy? What does that mean?"

Hey, do you want to venture a guess as to his response? Yep. He said "I don't know."

He then started crying. I was not crying. I refused to give him that much. I asked him why he was crying and he says "I'm hurting you."

I said "No you're not! I'm not hurt. I was hurt on Saturday when you broke up with me, Sunday and Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday.. and each day it's gotten a little easier for me to deal with so that right now I'm not hurt, I'm pissed off. I'm going to move on with my life and have a great one. You, unfortunately, will probably have a sad life."

And I walked out the door. FUMING.

Then I fumed the rest of the day, and the whole of Monday. Tuesday I started feeling a little guilty like maybe I shouldn't have been so hard on him. (It was stupid of me...) So I emailed him asking if he was 100% satisfied with the conversation on Sunday. You want to know his response? "Yes." That's it. THAT HURT.

So, I thought about it all day and decided that the only way I'd get some closure or whatever you want to call it was to write a letter explaining everything I was feeling, how I never had originally wanted to break up, etc etc...

I went over on Tuesday night to deliver my nice letter. (I didn't even say anything bad... just said that I wanted and deserved some answers etc... and that I was remembering the good times we had shared.) He wasn't home when I was delivering the letter but his parents were. I got roped into sitting down and talking to his mother for a good hour. She kept saying she wished we would make up because she really loved me and really wanted me to be the one for him and blah blah... basically she wasn't making anything any easier. Finally I finagled my way out of the conversation and put my letter on his bed.

He never responded to the letter and I never expected him to because he is a complete fucking coward and knew what a SHITTY SHITTY way he handled all of this. He's immature. I don't usually badmouth an ex, but I must say that he was the most immature guy I ever dated.

And that's done. Now I have the pleasant job of getting over all of this. Heartache, yet again. I'm bruised, for sure, but I'll eventually get over it.

And to help me get over it I am going to Miami for a little less than a week. Beach, ocean, tanning. It'll help ease my pain.