The Hazards of Doom-Scrolling

I spent the last two days sitting across from a guy who was unfortunately hot. Well, at least my type of hot I guess. We have a type folks, what can I say? I should stop looking. Really. Hopefully I learned a lesson on the hazards of doom-scrolling because it didn’t lead me anywhere except to Misery City, population one.

I wish I knew how to take a surreptitious photo of him to show others because it doesn’t make sense. He is so attractive that it pisses me off. It really isn’t fair. Even less fair? He is taken. Even more unfair? He is nerdy and into a bunch of shit, I’m into.

Adventures of an online stalker

Oh, yes bitches. I fucking stalked him online and got the deets. His online presence is minimal but everyone leaves some kind of trail and I picked up the scent his Gretel left behind tagging him in some insta post from 5 years ago.

Clearly, the ring on his finger wasn’t a big enough clue, because it was, but I seem to be really good at ignoring what I want to. I was irritated beyond belief. Inexplicably annoyed that he was taken and had the nerve to sit across from me to distract me during this training session.

I spent a good three hours when I got home last night torturing myself, doom-scrolling on all social content that was related to his life. But was instantly triggered when I realized that he and his woman (they call each other partners — what a fucking millennial thing to do) named the RV that they are renovating fucking Serenity.

I Should Have Seen This Coming

Let me explain why this Browncoats reference is enough to send me into the fucking stratosphere.

The ex, the notorious mr horrible, and the bitch he was cheating on me with would talk about having a boat and naming it Serenity because they both liked to watch Firefly and would act as if they discovered it together. Which annoyed the fuck out of me because I introduced that show to that worthless motherfucker ex. And that’s all I am going to say about that. It makes my blood boil.

Inner Krakatoa – Rage Rising

It was probably for the best that I found that because I instantly shut it down and stopped looking. And today when I sat across from him, I was determined to find something to hate about his fucking pretentious little life. I wanted to stab him in the neck. I saw his wife today too. They work together it turns out, at the location where my training was held. So another fucking workplace romance.

The fucking mr horrible similarities are enough to send me into a tailspin. Why am I doomed to be reminded of my past failures?

And just several days ago I had a moment of weakness convinced that I was cursed to be alone because the ex was the last relationship I would have, seeing as how I was psychologically damaged and traumatized and refused to put myself in that position of vulnerability again.

That’s what I get for looking.

I said it once, and I will say it again. Therapy is expensive.