You Don't Know Me At All

I made the mistake of analyzing my recent break-up in the form of an email message to the pharmacist. I already referenced this in a comment on my last post -- it prompted the song lyrics.

Yeah, okay, so I probably should've saved the picking apart and tearing down for my blog where it belongs. But still.

His reply to my email made me extremely angry. Among other things, he outright told me that we're not compatible (duh - that point was never in question), and that I need to stop analyzing it. Hence the song -- "You don't know me at all."

Um, hello?!

Anyone who knows me, and anyone who's ever read this blog knows that I analyze the FUCK out of everything. That's what I do. It's how I process things. It's who I am!

If he hasn't figured that out by now, and if he's not capable of accepting it, then he's absolutely right -- we're not compatible.

It was like a direct and personal attack on my character, on what makes me me. Bashing my music was one thing, but this...

I took my anger and channeled it into my exercise class. My coworkers were chattering and goofing off as usual, but I blocked them out. I was focused and solid. In my head I screamed obscenities while my body shuddered under the pain of being pushed to the limit. I kicked some serious ass. I felt so strong and energetic afterwards.

Then I channeled that energy into my project at work, and I kicked ass at that too. Without coffee, even! I worked until it was dark outside, until my stomach was empty, until I realized I was the only one left in the building.

Before I locked up to go home, I read his email again. This time, instead of feeling hurt and angry, I just laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. "Stop analyzing it," he said.

As if!

Wow. You really have no idea who I am. It's a shame, really, but it's your loss, not mine.

Thank you, pharmacist, for making me angry - it was exactly what I needed. Thank you for pointing out the negative qualities I overlooked because I liked you. And lastly, thank you for reassuring me that I made the right decision by putting a stop to it all. You have served your ex-boyfriend duties admirably. Shit, if you had been this straightforward while we were dating, I might not have been so confused the whole time! Ah, but hindsight...

This morning I thought about asking to borrow a pair of Sister Midnite's ass-kicking boots, or Jennicula's tall spikey heels, but at the end of the day, I did just fine in my old beat-up Converse. As it turns out, even flat, worn, rubber soles can be used to squish somebody's face into the pavement.

Whoops! Was that your eye? Bummer.

And now I've got one more credential to add to the list when I'm praying to the universe:

I want a boy who will accept my need to analyze things. Extra bonus points if he'll hang out and listen. Even double if he'll help me talk through it.





Yep, I'm going to be just fine.