I Don't Care

I'm not quite sure what has overcome me; perhaps the New York winter is catching up with me or perhaps I have finally reached my breaking point when it comes to flaky boys.

Either way, I've really stopped giving a crap.

Normally, I would be obsessing over why some guy hasn't bothered to call me or asked me out for the weekend. And as of recently, I would be secretly obsessing but pretending not to be on the outside because I'd adopted a laissez-faire attitude about the whole thing.

But this past week, something odd happened. I really stopped caring.

I didn't notice until today that there had been nary a peep from anyone I've been conversing with lately: F-List, All American Idiot, Dirty Irish, even Epic Fail.

And I was slightly surprised that I didn't feel one way or another about this fact. I wasn't disappointed, confused, happy, sad, nothing whatsoever.

It was oddly weird...and freeing.

So I had a quiet night in, had dinner and watched Lost with friends, and as I was about to head to bed, of course All American Idiot texted me to see how I'm doing and that he'd "love" to see me soon.

Leave it to a (stupid) guy to find me more appealing once I'd totally told him off and called him out on the fact that he hadn't been completely honest with me. And of course, it was my luck that he was contacting me when I had absolutely no interest in him anymore, versus a month earlier when I'd actually been looking forward to hearing from him.

After all of my preaching, it would be hypocritical of me to just blatantly ignore him and leave him hanging, so I texted him back that I'm unavailable and I'd rather not see him.

In short, I blew him off.

He responded with a terse, "I hear ya." (Did I mention he's eloquent as well as a MENSA candidate?)

I maintain my apathetic attitude about the whole thing.

I can only hope that it remains. It's really freed up my mind to think about more important things, like what I'm going to wear on my birthday and what color nail polish will match best.