How about you take the big stick out of your ass before you worry about the splinter in mine?

My ex-boyfriend is a closet homosexual. You're all aware of this, right? I was, at one point, blinded by love and refused to acknowledge this truth. It became apparent when a) I saw his closet and b) he adamantly refused to have any physical contact with me for the second year of our relationship.

Now that we're all on the same page...

As you may recall, I'd hoped to remain friendly with Chuck post-break-up. Things changed and we now avoid communicating with each other for the most part. It doesn't always work, of course. There are times that one of us really feels the need to speak to the other--for example, after my sister gets shitfaced and calls him to share details of my post-break-up relations with members of the opposite sex who happened to live right down the street from us once upon a time...or when I just want my freaking Christmas decorations back already.

At 2am this past Sunday, Red and I both received phone calls from Chuck's inebriated ex-colleague. Neither of us answered, but the urgency in the messages he left led me to believe that maybe he really had something to say.

Rather than call the guy back the next day, I waited until Monday morning and sent Chuck an email (STUPID, STUPID, STUPID) to find out what his friend wanted. I mistakingly assumed that my ex was present when the calls were placed. Wrong-o! He hadn't seen the guy in over a week and, suprise, was upset that his friend called, because surely he was calling to hit on me. Is there any other logical explanation?! He must have wanted a piece of Red too. The man was definitely looking for a sister sandwich.

We moved past the phone call crisis into some friendly small talk. He's now dating someone, which truly delights me. Despite this, he feels the need to bitch and whine and harp on the destruction I caused in his life and the void that can never be filled by anyone else. Yada, yada, yada. People break up every day. It's been four months. This is not (I repeat, NOT) the end of the world, right?

Did I ever mention that he's also extremely over-sensitive?

Out of nowhere today, he started pressing my buttons. Back in November, when Red and Gretchen came to Duluth for a weekend of beer and fun, I made out with a married man. Long story. Okay, short story not worth telling. Kissing is as far is it went...but yes, I do realize I'm going to burn in hell for it. During one of our lengthy phone conversations when Chuck implied that we could be friends and made me feel comfortable sharing things with him, I told him about it. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID AGAIN! Do I never learn?

Back to today. Today he told me he's not sure he should put in the time and effort necessary to have a relationship with anyone when there are girls out there who have the attitude that I did with the married man. Essentially, he told me I'm easy and stood by it when I called him on it.

This is coming from the original man whore! I remember, in detail, when I asked him how many sexual partners he's had. My question was met with silence...a loooong silence. When I asked if he was avoiding the question, he replied that he was still counting and then defensively snapped, "I can't remember everything I've ever done when I was drunk!"

My number is very small. In fact, he's had intercourse with nearly four times as many people as I've kissed! But I'm the slutty one for letting a man kiss me after I'd broken up with Chuck. What was I thinking? Whoever let me out of the convent that night deserves to be bludgeoned to death.

I'm furious. Please tell me they're not all like this.