The Hell Date Has Tentacles...

And they are reaching out to me through the phone and Facebook. I must be the the first date queen because Shaggy has called and texted me for over a week, despite my ignoring him. Just when I thought it was over, I get this lovely message in my inbox:

"I don't know what happened between me & you but oh well thanks. Life is still great for me."

What kind of fuckery is this? You must think I'm a cold-hearted witch for posting this but it's all totally anonymous. No one I know knows him or anything. We are no longer Facebook friends (that even sounds childish in typing). So, what I'm thinking is, that he searched my name just to write me this message. Why? Why? Why? Doesn't everything I'm doing or not doing say that I don't like him? Nothing since the date could be taken as the contrary. Man, he's dense.

What is he thanking me for? Putting up with his inconsiderate, David-Banner-beard-having, Kanye-plus-Neyo-minus-any-attractiveness-sized-ego-carrying self?

Life is great for me? What does that even mean? Did he think I was assuming I rocked his world, and he'd fallen in love? He's acting like I broke his heart, and he's trying to be strong and prove he's over it.

Congrats that life is great for you, really. But, I don't give a crap. I'm not lamenting on how you're doing. It was a first date, for crying out loud! Sometimes they work out, and sometimes, especially this time, they just don't. This dude is 80% cornball, and as for the other 20%, well he may want to check his boxers (or briefs?) because he is a straight up p*ssy. I'm trying to avoid the vulgarity, because I said much worse when I first read it, but this guy is just...ugh. I'm hoping this is the end of it.

Is this all Mississippi has to offer? I need to know because I have 4 years of medical school ahead of me, and I might just have to spend my summer going on a nationwide one-night-stand fest to last me throughout the drought. What's worse is today I received a scholarship that may pay for medical school (at least partially) with the exception that I must practice in MS for 5 years after. That's my whole twenties, spent in this God-forsaken state! I'm beginning to think MS is like the mafia. Just when you think you're out, they pull you back in. I need the money, but I might freak the hell out if I have to stay here for that long. I'm talking Mariah-Carey-handing-out-ice-cream-in-a-tshirt-on-TRL or Amy-Winehouse-visiting-her-husband-in-jail kind of breakdown.