The beginning of the dreaded EX story...we all have one, or two, or...

Look, it's a two entry day! I actually finished most of my work and I get to leave early today. Why not fuck around for the last hour or so, hummm? Just so long as I get everything done, which I have. The important stuff anyway :)
I want to get to the reason why I started this diary. I've never had one before. I've tried doing the journal thing, but I was never one to have an actual diary. I think it'll be interesting to go back and read later. Of course, duh, that's one of the main purposes of a diary, right? Well, I also have an online friend that lives about 400 miles away and we've become pretty close online. I was going through a particularly tough time (thankfully the LAST of a string of many, you know the usual...we never learn) with my ex during the tail end of summer and I found it very helpful to unload all my emotional shit to her online. I could tell her many things that I couldn't tell my family or friends. It's nice to have an arbitrary person to babble to, and get opinions from. I saved some of what I thought were the more intriguing emails to read later. They were great to read after the fact, after I got a whole new perspective...after I dumped his sorry ass. So...that's kinda what this diary is for...
I've noticed while reading along, that there are so many women in these fucked up relationships or who have just gotten out of fucked up relationships and so on and so forth. So I guess I should start with MY story, huh? We ALL have one. Some are more sordid that others...that dreaded ex or exes and the scarring relationship. I'm still pissed about the whole thing, which is a wasted emotion, I know. Espcially since I've got a lovely boyfriend now. I'm supposed to have learned from the last one and moved on by now. Get the FUCK OVER IT! 'Kay, that's another thing this diary should help me with. People are tired of hearing about Mr. shithead. Ssssssoooooooo....I'll hash out an abbreviated version in here and bitch and moan about it whenever the fuck I feel like it...'til I'm completely and totally over it. Yay.
It aaaalll started seven lovely years ago. At the time, I was what I thought a homely 19 year old. I had NEVER HAD A BOYFRIEND! Oh GOD NO! I'm a freak! No one loves me and no one will! Fuck, if you think I'm insecure NOW, I was a total moron back then. I've learned so much about myself and gotten so much self esteem in the last five years it's rediculous. So I'm a fucking late bloomer, who gives a shit! I couldn't even handle a boyfriend in highschool anyway! Sure, I'd had my share of pathetic dates...just a few embarrassing and awkward moments with guys. Hell, I EVEN made it to my senior prom! With some dorkus who "broke my heart". Lesson #1...just because they wanna fuck you doesn't mean they like you. Pfft....duuuuhhh. So then I was off to junior college and waitressing in a restaurant. I stressed out so much during the transition from highschool to college (I fucking HATE school...it wasn't even a REAL college for christs sake) that I broke out in hideous acne. Oh, I thought I had pimples in highschool. No, I didn't even learn the meaning of acne 'til I hit 18 and my face exploded. Hmmmm, adult onset acne. HOW FUN! Just what I need! So I battled the pus face for about a year and then it started to clear up for the most part. I'm one of the lucky greasy Italians who gets pimples. I will get pimples for-fucking-ever. BUT, they're now under some sort of control. So being a late bloomer, low self esteem and all that lame ass youngster bullshit that is sooooo normal kept me from getting my first real boyfriend 'til I was 19. I met...hmmm...what should I call him...I've already used some people's real names so I may as well just use his. It's a stupid ass name and I always hated it...Arn. I ALWAYS had to explain his fucked up name to people...they'd be like "Is that short for Arnold or something?" ALWAYS. I'd be like, no, he's a Scandinavian mommas boy. Okay, so I met ARN at the restaurant I was working at. Picture the shy, cutsie 19 year old hostess/waitress and a 28 year old comes in and asks her out. Well, he had just gotten out a four year marriage and found out that my sister-in-law was still working at the restaurant he used to love to go to before he got married. He was in highschool with her. So he started coming in and noticed me. He asked my sister-in-law if I was dating anyone and she said no, naturally. Sooo...he asked me out. I declined at first because I thought he might be a weirdo (I always attract weirdos, but then again, I'M a weirdo) and he was too old for me. So I told him he was too old for me. Ah, but that fucker was persistent as hell. He continued to come in and just be friendly toward me. At least once a week. I then found out that he was a swimmer in highschool and was still swimming at nights to keep in shape to become a fireman. Ooooh, yes, ladies...a fireman. Uh, so yea, I wanted to swim too 'cause I was a swimmer in highschool too! Holy shit! A common interest. So off we went swimming one night. Then followed the "long talk" and the "first date" and so on and so forth. My 19 year old, inexperienced ass thought I was in love. Yes....it starts. Okay, I thought this was gonna be an abbreviated version...but now I gotta go into all sortsa detail and shit. It's time to go home! I have half day today and damn me if I ain't gon' take advantage of it! I'll continue sometime next week I guess. Bubbye fer now!