01.13.04 :: 4:30 pm

Let's just start this entry by praising my saintly doctor, Dr. M, for prescribing Lexapro because I do not think I could have handled what just passed for a conversation with my ex unmedicated.

Basically, he had the fucking cojones to tell me that he thought I was innately "not a nice person," and that I am selfish and mean and that I have never done anything nice for anyone ever.

This is all preceded by a very civil email exchange (of which there have been a few) to check up on the other and pretty much extend an olive branch.

Ten years is a long time to be in one another's lives.

Well, apparently, he harbors some kind of resentment towards me for being depressed while we went out, and for only starting to get better now.

To which I responded that he has no right to call me selfish when I lived and breathed his stupid fucking rock star expectations and his stupid fucking friends for over five years.

AND! How quickly he forgets that MY OWN MOTHER let him stay at her apartment when he was out of a fucking lease and HOMELESS for FOUR MONTHS.

Selfish? Yeah.

I've never done ANYTHING nice for ANYONE ever. Right.

But this Lexapro really handled the situation for me because I was cool as a cucumber and I merely replied,

"You ought to think about what you just said to me. If that's how you feel, then fine. I'm not really interested in hearing it though, because it's totally false."

And not ten minutes later, an apology email sitting there like a lone, retarded orphan.

He could probably benefit from some Lexapro himself. Suffice it to say, he broke the asshole meter and now we have to go back to square one.

Which is fine. I find myself not really giving a shit either way. I'm happy where I am. I'm happy I have my friends.

Praise be to the miracles of modern science.

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