All you really need is a quick recap of where I’m at right now, but for those of you who know me, who truly care about me and want to know the update of this situation with Sherlock, etc., I will post the long version as well.
Cliffs Notes Version:
Kids, I admit when I’m wrong. Most of you were right. Sherlock turned out to be withholding quite a bit of information from me, and his “fuck buddy” friend is now threatening me and placing incendiary comments on this blog.
What have I (we) learned in the last year plus of reading this blog?
1) I will not tolerate a liar.
2) I will not tolerate attempts to bully me into behaving a certain way, especially if attacked first, and without provocation.
3) It never works out to have someone you are dating also reading your blog.
4) I can end a relationship without ever looking back. That said, I’ve employed a new break up line we must add to the list: “I want you out of my life.”
Reading The Whole Book:
Laying in bed watching CMT on Sunday morning, wishing for my headache to go away. The headache is a casualty of a Saturday night with one Foto Fox of I am Therefore I Date. Two bottles of wine, five splits of champagne and very little food made for two very drunk girls. Sort of a “when dating blogs collide” event. But oh, how glad I am that you have moved here one Foto Fox, for you are one cool chick.
My week and weekend up until the point of drunken debauchery Saturday night was a non stop Sherlock extravaganza. Friday night we had a really late dinner, went back to my place and had this incredibly deep and intense conversation that gave me the chills. There was a definite connection with him during and after that conversation that brought us to the next level. He stayed over with me (I was two for two!) and Saturday morning he came with me to take the dogs to the beach in Annapolis. On our way back into the city, we decided to have lunch at the much despised Lauriol Plaza (service again receives zero stars) and then went back to my place. When I had to get ready for my above blind-lesbian-blogger date, he went home.
Something had been transpiring on my blog that I was keeping an eye on. A commenter seemed particularly vicious with respect to this situation with me and Sherlock. I know that some of you get heated, and want to slap me around for doing stupid shit, and sometimes I get upset and snap back at you, but this was different. And a couple people (Kokonutz, NR) noticed it as well and said something in the comments that had not occurred to me – which was, “Is this the fuck buddy coming out?” This is where commenters I don’t know can be extremely useful – seeing another angle of a situation I can’t see. Thanks to you kids for that.
At some point after oh, 104 drinks with Foto Fox, Sherlock sent me a text telling me that the raging bitch in my comments had outed herself as another personality, one who had commented as another name. She’s the girl who he dated before me, who told him about my blog. He read me what she wrote over the phone while I was at the bar. I’m not understanding what it is with some psychotics that they want to ruin things for others or just be nasty bitches. All I could think was that this girls life must be so miserable that she’s trying to ruin what happiness I have. This girl is the same girl who lamented to him, “You’re going to get serious with this girl, why is it that every guy gets serious with the girl right after me?” Boo fucking hoo. As pathetic as that statement was, I no longer feel bad for her.
I still honor my credo of deleting people and blocking them if they become downright mean spirited. I’ve been through a lot of shit on and with this blog. For some reason, some people see a good thing and get jealous. It makes them act out in ways that are truly ridiculous, and I’ve had to do a good deal of protecting myself from this cattiness because it just isn’t positive or productive for my life.
So while Sherlock and I were on the phone, and while I was still out with Foto Fox, he made a statement that I just can’t stop thinking about. He said, “Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of this between you and her, maybe you could just make up?” Um….first of all, this bitch is coming after ME, I’m not laying into her, and what the fuck is that comment all about? I can understand not wanting any conflict in life, but shit, most men consistently fail to see what bitches other women are to each other. What I said back was, “Oh, you ARE the middle, you’re in it, and welcome to the fucking middle.” Without him, this wouldn’t be going on, right?
We’ve just spent the last three days discussing “us” and our status, talking of getting married and having fucking babies. We got to the elusive BF/GF words I cringe to use with anyone. Part of that commitment, minor as it may be compared to say, a marriage, is being on your partner’s side. Not loafing around in the middle. No matter how genuine his affirmation of the statement “I love you” might be, he has to back it up with actions. Fortunately for me, that feeling of love was still a one way street.
Sherlock came to get my drunken ass, and while I wasn’t upset with him for any of this stuff that is currently going on, I couldn’t get past the “don’t want to be in the middle” comment. I was quiet and brooding on the ride home. We get to my place, I responded to the dumb bitch in the comments. It’s not the prettiest side of my personality, but when someone pulls me into the ring, I fight back with no remorse for the feelings I’ll hurt along the way. I’ve since pulled her last name and employer’s name, not because of her threats but because I really just don’t care about her and don’t want anyone to be directed over to her site. After, when we were walking the dogs, he asked me what my options are.
We fixated on her outlash being a jealousy thing and proceeded to have a whole conversation about what this blog has become, and how it got that way. I told him that I hear rumblings of pissed off people who think their writing is better or their material and content is better, and they can’t understand how I get the hits that I do. Half of me wants to shrug at that, but the other half wants to say, “Fuck you. It’s not easy to get out there over and over, dating shithead after shithead, so I can chronicle a slice of the dating scene in Washington D.C. for everyone.” I’ve formed a lot of friends and allies along the way, I read a lot of other blogs, I spend a lot of time reading stuff of new commenters. I take a genuine interest in what people have to say and they pay me the same respect back. Also, I’m NICE to other women. When a woman is around who is better at something than I am, then I want to learn what makes her tick, and I’m certainly not going to gain anything by being nasty to her. Unfortch, not all of us have learned that art.
When people come to know you, through your writing, they either decide that they are rooting for you or against you. Fortunately 99% of you appear to be rooting for me. Occasionally I come across the 1% and I’m always shocked at their childish spoiled behavior, almost stamping their feet crying, “But my blog is better!” Ugh. Sickening. Grow the fuck up.
So where are we? He goes home and this morning I get a text message from him that the bitch is threatening all sorts of shit. Wah wah wah. She sent an ultimatum of sorts to Sherlock asking me to take her name off my blog, when in fact you can just google her blogger id and come up with her real name. Ok, I’ll indulge you, stupid whore. She wants to put all my information online. So I call and ask Sherlock how she could possibly know the things she’s threatening to put online. He told her of course. Something isn’t passing the sniff test. I ask what else went on with them, and fired off a bunch of questions that amounted to asking why this girl is so vicious, and that something else must have gone on with them.
He finally tells me that he’s scared to talk and I tell him he better start talking immediately. There wasn’t just one girl he slept with during his two weeks of stalking. There were three. Some back to back, including this bitch in my comments. Of course when I asked him the first time, he lied. He also lied earlier this week you might recall, because he only fessed up to one, not three. He said he told her how much he liked me and she must have been jealous. Um…hello? How could you be fucking one woman telling her that you really like another? That makes no sense to me. You learn that shit in 2nd grade. So I listen to him tell me of all the women he’s nailed in that time period, all the details and I start shaking. I can’t believe that when I choose to let someone in, it turns out like this. And yeah, I know most of you saw it. But you knew I had to give it a shot. I had to at least try.
He asked me what I wanted to do. It was calm, and it was honest, and it came out of my mouth so directly and so forcefully that I knew there was no other alternative:
“I want you out of my life.”
I told him I would be over within the hour to pick up what little I had left there (you know, porn…toys.) I dropped the dogs off and went over there. He let me in, I walked by him, not looking at him, found my shit and headed for the door. Then I turned around and said, “Where’s your cell phone?” He pointed at the counter. I told him to delete my number out of it. He did it in front of me, and I turned around toward the door. Parting words?
Sherlock: I’m sorry.
Velvet: Fuck you.
Final Stuff For You to Know:
I’ve blocked his email, not that it will do much good. Anyone can create more email addresses. He’s getting new internet service so there’s no point in blocking his IP’s.
Well, this saga is officially over. I’ve taken about all the bullshit I can from Sherlock and company. My sheets, smelling faintly of him, have been ripped off the bed and thrown in the wash. With bleach.
Comment moderation is on. I’ll approve them as quickly as I can.