A Little Update for Those that Care

A little update for those of you that have been wondering what I've been up to since the Saga of Three Boyfriends, here's a little recap:

The boyfriend I finally ended up choosing, Bobby, went into the Marines last December. He had three and a half months of training (it would have only been three, but someone kicked him in the face and broke his nose) and now, he's in North Carolina for another month of physical training. I'm proud of him for making it through the initial training to become one of the most elite members of the armed forces.
He broke up with me over the phone.
Of the many things that Marines are taught, emotional tact is not one of them. He broke up with me so that, in the event that he is sent overseas and killed, I won't hear about it and get depressed and angry with the world.
This man obviously doesn't know me.
I don't care about many things in this world. I love my family, my best friend, and my cat. I would lay down my life for the people I care about. Up until the 31st of March, he was one of those people.
People tell me that I have sad eyes. It's because I absorb other peoples' anger and pain and keep it locked up inside. I would rather be the one to hurt, because I can handle it. I am stronger than most people think I am. But this really fucking hurt.
Robert Paul Dooley, you are a coward. Instead of risking me actually lashing out at you physically, you chose to break up with me over the phone. I hope that the four horsemen, Jimmy, Johnny, Jack, and Jose, are the perfect companions. Have a great fucking life.

I mean, why do guys do that? Say they love you every day, every time you talk to them. Behave nicely in front of your friends. Talk respectfully to your parents. And then out of nowhere, "I'm probably going to end up dying in the service, so I'm breaking up with you now so you're not hurt then.".
Then he's off to a strip club.
I'm a nice girl. I've never been in (serious) trouble with the law. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I have a few problems with personal space (so very tactile, am I), but I've never taken it so far that I actually become an annoyance. Is there really something so off about me that a guy can pledge his heart and promise the world one day, then be gone the next? Do I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?
I'm sick of being used. I'm tired of being stared through, treated like I'm not even a real person.
I'm real.
I'M FUCKING REAL.
I'm a human being.
(and God help me, I still love him.)
I keep thinking that I'm going to wake up and I'll still be in South Carolina, or on the road back to Florida. That this shit never happened.
I saw him again before he left.
At the comic store. He was in his dress blues.
He looked at me like I wasn't there. I cried on a bus because of him.
I hate him.
I love him.
(please come back to me, I love you too much to let you go so soon)

That previous monologue was spliced together from the posts I made about this incident in my LJ. Two months later, I'm okay. I have a new boyfriend that I absolutely adore. I may go as far as to say that he's mey One. I mean, it may be too soon to tell right now, but I'm pretty sure.
I can talk comics with him, and (while he doesn't get half the stuff I say, being a hard-core comic geek) he gives some pretty good feedback. He's a writer, working on a comic of his own. He also works in a porn store, which is fabulous. We have some of the best sex I've EVER had EVER.

But goddamnit, I still sort of miss Bobby.
I hear a sad song, I think about how much he hurt me. How hard I cried over him. The state of my nails after I shredded my self-dignity for him. And yet, I still get sort of weepy sometimes over him.
I've been exercising and while I'm no ultra-buff Mary Marine, I'm a damned sight thinner than when last we met. I look better, I feel more confident, and I have a boyfriend that is so much more...everything than Bobby was. I may just see him again at Florida Supercon next week, and I want it to be with no regrets.
I still plan on cockblocking the hell out of him, mainly because that is what a spiteful, vindictive bitch like myself does in these situations.