Three words, Eight Letters. Say it, and I’m Yours.

12 Nov

Dear “Chuck Bass”,

I can’t come up with any sharp critical prose that meets the SR standards right now, because I am too busy nursing my hangover, getting your smell off of my bed, and taking a hot bath to make the soreness in my legs go away.

It started nine months ago, when I met a you at a party. We bonded over R Kelly songs and always winning Never Have I Ever. Before I was able to process things, I had locked you in the upstairs bathroom, and we were both naked (sorry for not realizing that you actually had to pee…). You trapped me right then and there.

For a few weeks after this, you convinced me that we could be great together. You described us as kindred spirits (which we might actually be) and offered to cook me some sort of chicken dish. I managed to get excited. And then. You fell off the face of the earth.

That’s a tad dramatic. But you went from sixty to zero in record time. I think I cried. I guess I was hurt. After two days, I pulled myself together, deleted all records of you from my phone and moved on. On to the next one (or seventeen).

Until you texted me at midnight on a random Friday night. And before I was able to rationalize anything, we were back in bed and I remembered why I had felt the way I did about you. They were seven amazing hours. And then, as it would become customary, you left before the sun came out. I tried to initiate conversation again, but alas, you were an ass, and I just couldn’t accept it.

Eventually, I deleted your number yet again: if I eliminate anything that can enable bad behavior, then I’ll eliminate you from my life. I thought I forgot all about you, but then you texted me to tell me that you were on your way to the same party at which I was. And that we should keep things friendly because you were “seeing someone”. I swallowed my pride and tried to not care. Until you stuck your hands up my skirt at Policy. Friendly my ass, you big jerk.

It was at that moment that I was finally able to acknowledge my addiction. I don’t think I love you anymore, or at least I’ve convinced myself that I mostly don’t. But I can’t stop. I can’t say no to you. I regularly promise my friends that I will never do it (you) again. I delete you number, texts, and any and all other associations of the Great “Chuck Bass” at least once a month. But I can’t quit you.

You text me again. I fall off the wagon after three weeks sober. I pretend that it’s casual. That I can do it once and stop whenever I want, that one time isn’t going to break me. But even when I’ve been “dating” other guys, I can’t say no to you. And every time it happens, I forget why I tried to stop in the first place. And every single time, I secretly still hope that you’ll stay past 6am. But all I’m left with is sore legs, rug burnt knees, and an empty queen-sized bed.

So thank you jerk, for stringing me along for the past ten months. Thank you for making me fall in love with you over and over again every time you put your hands on me and for breaking my heart consistently and successfully every time you close the door to my apartment. For being the first guy to give me butterflies since 2011 and to make me cry since 2004. Thank you.

Here’s hoping that someday I’ll get over you.

XOXO

Stacie Smack

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3 Responses to “Three words, Eight Letters. Say it, and I’m Yours.”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. In Which I Try “Being Exclusive” ????? | STOP REQUESTED - December 3, 2013

    […] possibility of bringing him anywhere that could lead to this. And to be clear, everyone knows about Chuck Bass, everyone hates Chuck Bass, and I still love Chuck Bass. So it’s not like I run my life based on […]

  2. Excuse Me… What? | STOP REQUESTED - March 4, 2014

    […] your memory: I, Stacie Smack, am dating a man [mostly] monogamously. And no, his name is not Chuck Bass. It’s been an interesting process, the whole having someone still in your apartment after 7am on […]

  3. Give The Dweeb A Chance | STOP REQUESTED - March 27, 2014

    […] I’m giving the dweeb a chance. After two years of crazy hook ups, bad online dates, and being strung along by the love of my life (HA), I decided to take a break. It’s almost like a vacation from my preferred lifestyle. I’m […]

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