Welcome to the "Women Suck" club!

It's strange, but in a totally simultaneous but independent stroke of luck, Saab broke up with Nenette today. She, like every other woman alive today, has "self-esteem" problems, but hers are more severe. She is constantly down on herself, and she said that she was worthless (in almost those words) one too many times.

Saab bought her a replacement bike last week. He didn't eactly buy it, but he said that she could pay him back whenever. He gets more generous the less money he has, and she really needed the bike. Today she said that she couldn't handle having him give her such a gift, that she wasn't worthy, blah, blah, fucking blah. He basically agreed and will pick up the bike tomorrow. They are done.

I am so fucking sick of this constant self-esteem garbage. Too fat, too skinny, too poor, too rich, too smart, too stupid, too blonde, too white, too black. Too fucking bad.

I can't handle this shit anymore. I have my own shit to deal with. Everyone does. Get the fuck over it, or get out of my life. Don't lie to yourself and to me and tell me that your head is screwed on straight. Don't fucking bother. Cat is mired in it. Nenette is buried in it. That apartment is a den of inadequacy.

There are positive outcomes for me, at least. It's better that I find out now that Cat doesn't have her head on straight rather than a year from now. By the way, I am not saying that she doesn't have her head on straight because she dumped me. It's because her self-image issues are clouding her judgement and she is utterly confused about what path to take and how to take it, even though she has made a decision about things. She doesn't really know what she is doing in any aspect of her life.

This also gives me the chance to work on finding women that don't have a history of mental illness, who actually is confident, may have issues but doesn't let them rule her, that sort of thing. I can start to get over saving damsels and start being someone worhty of being with on my own merits.

I have to hand it to her ex, though. He had been trying for the better part of six months to get her back, and he did. She didn't make it easy on him, so I believe that he may have changed. Good for him. I have respect for what he has done. At this point, if this experiment with her ex doesn't work out I couldn't accept her back even if I asked me. How can I believe that she's together and that it was really over with her ex? She told me that once already, and it clearly wasn't true.

In 1996, I think, Helen Fielding coined the term "emotional fuckwit" to describe pretty much all men. Millions of women cheered, as though the fuckwittage is coming from us and only us. The nerve. The fucking gall! Who's the emotional fuckwit, now?

This summer I have lost my job, lost a good friend (S) and lost my girlfriend, yet I still am having the best summer I've had in years. Conclusion: Jobs are bad.