I’m a deleter. When I don’t want to talk to someone, I delete them completely. I delete their number(s), screen names, Facebook friendships, Twitter followships, you name it. I do this because I can’t delete them from the one place that matters the most: My memory.

    I just Twitter stalked my…ex(?). There was a reason, though! It was his birthday on Saturday and… honestly?… I wanted to see which thirsty little groupies were following him out. Saw a couple. And let me say I wasn’t impressed. What I do know, is that no one got him (almost at the damned stage) tickets to a Jay-Z concert, that’s for sure. I tried to click on this one girl’s picture but my stupid phone wouldn’t show it bigger. As I was waiting for it to download, I thought to myself, Why the fuck do I care? I shouldn’t be looking at this anyways. So I X’d out of her page and went back to his profile were I assumed the task of blocking him. Again, my STUPID PHONE said “User cannot be blocked at this time. Try again later.” Yea… fuck me, huh? Annnnyywayys… It’s hard to stop thinking about someone you once thought completed you. Because separation from that person implies that you’ve lost half of yourself and that is a loss that can barely be explained in prose. 
    Deleting is a great trick for getting over a person. It prevents reminders. I used to keep this one guy’s screen name on my AIM buddylist because I liked seeing his away messages and, truthfully, if he was on, that meant he knew I was on. And (like a complete loser) I had his name at the top of my list, so I could see it without scrolling (You how you do on AIM lol. Don’t judge me). So when he wouldn’t hit me up, I’ll admit, I was a bit upset. So I deleted his screen name. No longer could I see his name staring at me, blatantly ignoring me. Eventually, I stopped thinking about him so much. Deleting also prevents you from those “man I shouldn’t have” actions. For example, those random heyy‘s you send that you’re petrified will get ignored. 
       So here’s what happened: I felt like I was texting (or pursuing) this guy more than he was pursuing me. And he would text rather than call, which I didn’t like. So I deleted his number –mind you, we were still talking. Thing is, I had a Sidekick (again, DO NOT judge me) and after 100 text messages, they automatically delete. I recently saw my bill and I’m sending thousands of text messages a month. Needless to say, his texts disappeared almost immediately. So if he didn’t text me, I didn’t have his number. And I wouldn’t save it. My theory was, if he wanted to talk, he’d have to contact me. And if he took too long to contact me, he’d be completely out of my reach without his knowing it. He hit me on AIM maybe two weeks ago. All he sent me was his  number. After I sent him back question marks, he told me to text him because he “don’t be on” AIM. I told him I lost my phone & I didn’t bother to (rather, forced myself not to) save his number for when I got a knew one. I figure it this way: he has my number & if he decided to delete it, he fucked up. His loss. Deleting a man’s number will allow you to unconsciously stop yourself from be annoying, needy… or simply dumb. If anybody’s doing chasing, let me tell you….it ain’t Ella. That’s for sure. 
     As I mentioned, I lost my phone two weeks ago, and all my “in case” numbers along with it. This was one major accidental “delete”. I don’t even have the numbers of the guys I didn’t like but would call if I was bored or hungry. But not having their numbers has turned out to be more positive than you know. I’m not wasting my time entertaining men I’m not interested in. Hypocritically complaining about a guy yet hanging out with him consistently. Sometimes, women fill their time with pointless men to prove that someone is interested in them. I think these women do this because they aren’t interested enough in themselves. Last week –phone-less, man-less and stress-less– I read an entire book, bonded with my sister and got to spend time with new friends. So when it comes to male company, I’m back down to zero until… Until *Ye shrug* (That’s actually the my first official *Ye Shrug*. This is the first time I’ve actually felt it… Ahhh Kanyism feels great. lol) I’m not worried because I actually like myself and don’t mind time alone. Additionally, if a man wants to talk to you, he’ll call. Trust me. He’ll call. If he doesn’t, hunny, it’s time to move on. The worst thing you can do to yourself is sit and wait on a man. Worst. Ever. 
      I haven’t spoken to my ex since the day he didn’t show up to my college graduation. It was no big deal… just maybe the most important day of my life. I un-freinded him on Facebook (both his real page, and his new DJ persona page that now qualifies him as cool for the first time in his life– yes, I’m a hater. I do hate him and hate is well deserved). At some point, he had blocked me on Twitter ( because it got that bad) so I couldn’t search him. Then, one day, I could see his profile! Which meant that he was searching me. He’d have to search me to un-block me, no? So while my Twitter stalking might sound “crazy” (as men loooove to label women), he was obviously doing the same shit I was . And my profile is now public due to the fact that the EllaThought blog should blow up (riiighht???) so hopefully, he’s visited my page as well my blog. He never quite appreciated my writing until he needed a letter or email written but maybe he’ll be more interested since he’s constantly a topic of my conversation. Congrats, babe. You’re finally famous! 
     I suggest this though: don’t allow yourself to find them. To follow them. To search them out and pursue them. To care about the men who don’t care about you. I didn’t Twitter stalk him because I love him. I Twitter stalked him because I love to read how phony he his and I hope that he’s lonely, in pain and incomplete for the rest of his life. So I admit, there is a small part of me the still hurts from losing everything we had. Like Lauryn Hill says in “Freedom Time“, I am “more bitter than Circe“. (Circe is the Greek goddess in Homer’s, The Odyssey who fed and clothed Odysseus and his men for a year and a half, only to for him to leave her and go back to his wife.)

      I’m not ashamed to admit it. I look because I’m not completely over him. Wait, I am over him. What I’m not over is the pain. I don’t care if he knows that. I don’t care if he knows that the men I’ve been meeting suck. Or that I get lonely from time to time. Or whatever other emotional BS I write about because… ya know what? No matter how bad this dating scene gets, I never want him again

    You may not be able to delete a man from your memory, but you can delete him from your heart.  But there is only one thing that’ll do it: Not just any man, but better man