Blown Off – Retraction a.k.a. Kicked Out Of The Club

A few blogs ago I wrote all about my involuntary membership into the Blown Off Club.  The club where we persons who have been unwittingly dropped by a friend, a lover or a whomever of a whatever, who blew us off and gave us the diss.  The diss without a proper kiss……off.    

In my blog however, I did have a sort of clause, a second guessing benefit of the doubt sort of thing going on in my head that maybe somehow the perception or experience that I was having of this person blowing me off may be incorrect in its forebaring and if so then I was going to be in big trouble (in a lighter sort of way) especially after calling this person a macho ding-dong (among other things).  

Comes to be that I did mis-diagnose the situation and must retract that I was blown off by this person.  A misunderstanding on my part.  A technical interference or whatever you want to call it.  Bottom line is this guy did not give me the heave-ho or the diss-dang (though I cannot say for sure that it’s not because he is not settled with not being able to heave-ho ON my diss-dang! LOL).

So, in essence, I am kicked out of the club.  The Blown-Off Club.  No longer am I a blownoffee.  That is, for now,  For sure I am not naive enough to realize that in the world of “singledom” you-win-some and you-lose-some and there could very well come a day when I am back in the club, dancing away with the other clubettes (both men and women alike) with our middle fingers in the air singing along proudly and loudly to “I will survive”!         

Blown Off and Babbling

Well, I think I’ve been blown off.  I say “think” because unlike Sex and the City where Carrie at least got a post-it note from the guy who dumped her, this one I guess didn’t have the testicles to even do that (and we were only friends!).  This makes sense (the way he chose to blow me off) since he does have a very close-in-age sister and probably got too much of her “vjj” (new acronym for vagina) dna at birth.  

There is of course more to the “we were just friends” story but nevertheless, I was left thinking something bad happened or he’s pissed and ended up looking like a complete fool sending these three long texts and a couple of voicemails (the “babbling” reference in the title) trying to get some sort of an answer.  One would think I would have “got the message” because I did not get any messages back.  You would think, right?  But nooooooo.  

My perplexity came from my benefit of the doubt nature always assuming the best in peoples natures and my “innocent not yet too-burned by boys and the I love men nature”.  So I was 25/25/50 -somethings happened to him/he’s mad/he’s blown me off.   My worry was legitimate but my innocense played the fool (???). 

Regardless, this pencil pushing penis (lol) would have easily moved up the ladder from vjj status to ding-a-ling status if he would have just at least left a post-it note.  Even just a lil’ ol’ text message would have done!  Something like “later”, ”done”, “don’t call me no freakin’ more” or “I’m getting down with another audacious dame and don’t need ur derierre ’round here no more”.  Ya, know.  Something.  But no.  I get the vjj imbalanced ding-dong building his underdeveloped ego so he can hopefully become macho. 

Now hopefully nothing has happened to him or he didn’t lose his phone or something like that or I will be in big trouble about this post.  If not, I guess I have joined the club.  The blown off club.  That would officially make me a blownoffee, wouldn’t it?  Finally, I have fulfilled my long awaited juncture and am now part of the New York club scene……!