This post contains strong language... read at your own risk. The author accepts no responsibility for offended eyes.

Ok... WTF is wrong with me? I just agreed to meet up for drinks with my ex--we shall, in a thinly veiled attempt to preserve his anonymity, call him Chaz--after class tonight. A summary of the extent of our (turbulent) relationship would go something like this:

Chaz and I met at a bar, started dating a couple weeks after that, became exclusive and serious a couple more weeks after that. Chaz had to get shoulder surgery, moved in with me on a temporary basis, which became permanent. I fought with my friends (and then roomies) over his moving in--both parties were "wrong" on several and separate points--lost a few friends who I have since made up with. While Chaz was out of work, I basically supported us. Chaz, my ex-roomie (much love to Lindsey!), and I moved into a smaller apartment together, Chaz started staying out late. Our relationship deteriorated, I believe Chaz cheated on me. We broke-up, after roughly 2 years together, which was not pretty and resulted in a severe depression on my part (keep passing the open windows). Chaz moved out... leaving roomie and I in a lurch, despite the assurance "that will never happen."

I eventually got over Chaz, sorta, and we tried to be friends. In reality, we became the most dysfunctional and hurtful kind of friends imaginable. Eventually, after a year of inflicting pain on each other, Chaz got a job in Florida (sidenote: FL is a dumping ground for my exes. I will NEVER move to FL). A night or two before his departure, he calls me and b*tches me out--something to the effect that I cheated on him in the past year (mind you, this is the year in which we WERE NOT together, when we were "just friends") and proceeds to tell me how horrible of an individual I am. I basically say, albeit tearfully, "F*ck you, Chaz, I'm glad you're moving away and I never have to see/talk to you ever again."

One would assume end of story, correct? Ah... no. Chaz proceeds, after about a month or so, to call and text message.

I ignore.

He leaves me voicemails, first cajoling and then demanding to know why I am not returning his calls.

I ignore.

He text messages me four times a day, every day, for a month.

I ignore... until I get my cell bill and realize that his texting has driven my bill up by $60. So I call and query politely "Hey. You called?" He proceeded to tell me all about how wonderful life is, how wonderful Florida is, and wouldn't I love to come and visit? Basically acting like he never treated me like a whore and oh-so-meanly.

I remain aloof and cold. I do not participate in his conversation, and answer with short, terse sentences when asked questions.

Long story short, he comes back up here for Turkey day, manages to corner me into accepting a night out. It's my own fault really, I played my cards poorly. I tried to make is sound like I was highly unavailable, and the only time I had free was 10:30 p.m. on a Monday night AND I had to be home by 12:00 a.m. because I have a busy day on Tuesday (which, I don't. I plan to go to the gym, write the remaining 3 pages on my Memoir submission... nothing strenuous). The plan was he'd be like "oh, I understand. No biggie. Maybe over Christmas."

F*cker was like "Sounds good!"

Monkey balls! So now I'm trapped into going out with him. To make matters worse, dear old mother f*cking Chaz is like "Umm... can I drop my bag off at your place?" Apparently, the f*cker has been bouncing around between various friends' apartments.

I'll be damned if he thinks he's staying at my place.

We shall see how this night turns out. I'm debating if I should ask him where/how/if he gets his rocks off treating me the way he did, and then pretending that it never happened. In all likelihood, I'll just suffer in silence through the night.