This is such a weird way to spell, "hey, how are you surviving that traumatizing experience you had to have to keep your body from dying?"

Also, this is a drastic deviation from the girl you were sending before so: hello, dear. You cheated on me. You broke up with me. Why this?

Anyway, I didn't want to talk about it, but sure! If you want to keep pushing. Everyone on tumblr.com deserves to know that I, an adult woman, terminated an ectopic pregnancy caused by a fault in the permanent sterilization surgery I had to keep me from being baby trapped in an abusive relationship in my 20s.

I did it alone, because my boyfriend was busy fucking his new girlfriend. I did it without telling him, because when I tried to talk about it his new girlfriend called and interrupted our "date night," and when I cried he told me, "I'd like to go now if that's ok," and left me in an empty parking lot in Natick in the middle of the night.

I did it over the course of several appointments, because apparently it is not as simple as it looks on TV. I dealt with several well-meaning medical professionals who asked where the father was and if he needed counseling resources. I assume he does not.

I am still dealing with medical issues related to the failure of the previous sterilization and the ectopic implantation and I may have to give up some of my internal organs if the situation doesn't resolve the way I want it to. I am still dealing with it alone because my boyfriend dumped me so his new girlfriend could go to the show he'd invited me to attend, and then never spoke to me again because I didn't deserve an explanation beyond, "I told you I just wasn't feeling it." He broke my heart and maybe my left ovary to fuck a girl who can't spell her name right. Awesome.

Apparently he finally connected the dots (because he was still following me religiously on SnapChat until today when I reminded him AGAIN to take my name off his blog) and now I owe everyone an explanation. So here it is! I had sex, got pregnant and [almost] died. Your health teacher was right!

I would much rather never have had to call it out at all, but he had so many ~feelings~ about me not chasing him around the internet to beg him to pull my name from his blog.

And sending one of his hangers-on to harass me (for the specific topic they have chosen) is just cruel.

So I did.

@shamelessglutton you are out on a date with the girl you cheated on me with. The absolute bare minimum you can do is delete me from your porn blog.

And delete the videos of me

I cannot overstate how disinterested I am in this date tonight. Not that I've wanted to go on any of them, but I think I was relying on the momentum of post-split (not anger, not sadness, not anxiety, some unnameable other thing that made sitting still impossible) to get me there. Once there, I did what I always do - I tricked people into liking me for a few hours.

Tonight I don't have that. Tonight I have a strange sense of foreboding, some emotional numbing (and some nausea for texture.)

But we fake it until the feeling comes back, right? (Alternately we walk it off for two years until it requires surgical intervention - whichever comes first.)

He picked an evening, a restaurant, he made a reservation. He's been pleasant (and even funny) in conversation. There is nothing to indicate this is a bad idea. This is only a first date. Nothing has to come of it.

So what is this sudden hollow feeling behind my ribs? Why does this feel like something final and forever?

Coming from you that is such a compliment! 💕

Almost exclusively Thistle and Spire (I will never gatekeep lingerie.)