I came into work this morning to be told by my morning anchor that Douche-Bag Scott would be appearing in our morning sports report. (Our sports director tapes something the night before that airs in our morning and midday shows. Our midday anchor had met Scott at my birthday party.)
He’s an assistant coach for a local high school girl’s soccer team, and it’s district playoff time so our sports team covered the game last night. (sidenote: I actually ran by the school during my run last night. I will admit it, I looked for him, but didn’t see him. Pathetic, I know.)
The video from the game starts with an opening shot of Scott giving the girls a pep talk for about 4-5 seconds. When I saw him my stomach fell to my feet. It still hurts. It will hurt for awhile I think. Despite knowing what a jerk he is, I still miss him. We had fun together, and a good connection. I miss that. If things were still good, I would have texted him, sent him a copy of the video. We would have laughed about it. But now? I’m just sad. And here I thought I was doing so well.
Shows what I know.
Runnin' Down a Dream 