It's raining again.

Someone in Moscow reads my blog, but bizarrely, they only read this entry in particular: http://cozyrainyday.blogspot.ru/2013/07/loss-rain-solitude.html

I cry every time when I revisit that entry. Although I wonder if it's an actual person reading that entry or a Russian version of Googlebot.

I just came home from WB. I had a Mojito, couldn't get a seat at the bar, so I sat outside in one of their swing chairs for hours. Around midnight, I decided to call Alex. A few days ago, I woke up from a nightmare that I haven't written about. In that dream, I saw Alex telling me that he was getting married with his gf and I was completely meaningless to him. I screamed and cried and it was so much pain even after I woke up. I tried to ignore the dream but I haven't been able to. I have been down for the past few days because of it. Not because I keep recalling the dream but because I haven't healed the pain yet.

I called him three times and he never answered. I thought someone answered for the first time but I couldn't hear anything on the other side. Then I felt so angry that he wasn't answering my phone. I cried so much at WB today. I was completely alone; no strangers hit on me at all. I just watched the rain, the city, and kept crying. I have decided to despise him, like I do with all of my exes. After a man dumps me, I come up with reasons to despise them in order to get over them. I stopped doing that for a while because I thought judging others is a bad thing to do. But I have no way out. I'm desperate. There are too many men in my life who have hurt me and I must despise them in order to move on.

So here it is:
Alex, I hate the way you talk on stage. In fact, I googled your toastmaster's video and you're terrible at giving a speech. You seem so fake on stage and your English is nowhere close to mine. I also hate the fact that you intentionally expose your muscular arms when you were doing the toastmasters. You're one insecure motherfucker. You're a fucking coward. You're a friend of Andrew's and you didn't deserve my attention in the first place. I went to a better grad school than yours and I've been through much more than you have. I am a much better lecturer than you are. So fuck it. Your chocolate and dinners will never compare to what Ken has bought me. Yes, I got free tickets to Cirque du Soleil, but we never ran into any celebrity, say, the Black Eyed Peas. Ken and I together bring better luck to ourselves.

And here's to Ken:
You're a total screwup. You're too short and small for me, and you have no body hair, not even hair on your legs. The first time I met you I thought you were fucking pansy. You need more fucking testosterone in your body. I see through your insecurity from the very beginning. I know your vanity and your insecurity. You're nothing without me because you know you feel safe and settled with me. You also know you're lucky when you're with me. I despise you because your English grammar is terrible and your English is not as good as mine. I am more presentable than you in every social occasion because I've seen and experienced so much.

Dear Jeffrey, I don't understand you. It seems like you're into me every time when we hang out, but you never talk to me or call me to see how my day goes. I need a lot more attention than that. If you truly like me, please don't let me go.