Pins in the voodoo doll

The relatives are here from the US for Carnival and everyone is going out to a party today. Where will I be? In bed. With a book. God...I am pathetic. I should have bought a ticket and gone too. But at $700 a ticket, and with no psychic knowledge that I would have a job, I passed. But then, on a regular day, $700 a ticket is still ridiculous.

Yesterday I really wanted to tell someone, other than my parents, about my new job. Someone other than GB, who apparently had known days ago anyway (the consequences of living on a small island). Someone other than my gal pals. Steups. It was then I started to get real pissed with you-know-who. Mr “He’s Just Not That Into You”. I mean, how can you NOT be into me? Lol. I’m great!

I was really bummed cause for a while he was a good chunk of my life, and we talked all the time, and then he just-not- that-into-you’ed me. How gross. I wanted to email him and let him know anyway but refrained, cause I am the girl whose girlfriends quake in their high heeled pumps at the thought of coming to me with their man troubles cause I am the do-or-die queen. A usual Tamale response, after the requisite hugging and consoling, to some teary-eyed, snotty-nosed confession may go like this -

What? Girl, pick yourself off the floor and stop bawling. Does he think you’re begging? Is he the last chunk of man flesh on the planet? Don’t get lost in that love bullshit. That’s not love. That is BULL….SHIT! Why are you still with him?

Yeah. That sounds about right. And my friends are so predictable – they avoid me and get so silent when they are tolerating some shit they know perfectly well is bullshit – no calls, no texts, no emails, no drive-bys. And especially after the infamous BT, my horrendous ex with the sex addiction and issues with honesty, I sometimes seem to border on rabid, froth-at-the-mouth, red-eyed, snarling man-hater. Of course I am not, cause I truly am a soft marshmallow type - all sweet and gooey inside, but you get the picture. So I was not going to go against the Tamale grain and email this fucker who clearly does not know a good thing when he sees it. I mean, there is being busy and there is just ignoring a girl and this is ignoring. It cannot be preoccupation with work. It cannot be the constant travelling. That never stopped him before. That’s why he has a Blackberry. I stopped initiating contact, hoping to have him prove me wrong, but he has not contacted me at all. Am I going to sit and wonder if I did anything wrong? No. Why waste that kinda time? I am so done with men and their failure to communicate. I don't see why if you're not that into me, you just cannot tell me. I am a big girl. I can take it. Unless he's dead, I don't understand this behaviour.

So I sat with my “got the job” news in my empty study, watching my silent phone, my empty inbox, and cussed him in my mind. Pins in the voodoo doll.