Oh My God!!! I was reading through some of my last entries and realized that I totally did not tell you the finale of "The Marco Polo Saga." It'll be short, I promise. Definitely much shorter than the demise and lingering death of, for a lack of a grandiose vocab, "our relationship".   NOT EVEN!!!!  Regardless of an appropriate word for whatever the hell was happening.  This man, who I can only imagine is oblivious to the world around him, sent me another SMS text message at the beginning of August.  It read something like...

Hi April, how are you? How was your weekend? Sometimes I think about when we went out and how I liked it. 

Ok, ladies and gentlemen, here's where I, April Arnell Walker (that's right! I used my middle name!), cease to be nice and confused and I get angry. This Italian PUNK ass muthaf$%kah has the nerve to write shit like that. I totally refuse to debate the motivating factors behind his comment or to entertain mitigating circumstances.  His rationale for only contacting me once a month, behind this entire  encounter does not concern me.  There are no what-if scenarios floating around in my head.  I...DON'T... CARE...!!!  For closure I write back with the sentiment of  "Go f$%k yourself!!!"  No, no, no. I didn't actually say that.  I wasn't pushed that far, but I did much better than that. I wrote:

When I think about when we went out I think of two things. I think of how you acted like you liked me and I think of the Phillippines. Also, let's be honest, I don't know why you still message me. There is no hope of us having anything. No friendship. No sex. No anything. Your little messaging when you want then me replying only to not get a reply does nothing for my libido. So, stop sending me messages. 

THE END

And I have to say that I haven't received another text message.