a whiny asshole

What is more enjoyable that romanticizing that which is shit? My story is shit, and I shall romanticize it because I am an exhibitionist in a media-saturated society and I want you to listen. I don't even have a story yet, I have a half-baked blog post augmented with long words. Exhibitionism is really, really romantically beautiful; I love how silly and narcissistic my fellow human beings are. What choice do I have but to join in? I will do my best to portray myself in a negative light - as they say, any publicity is good publicity! Here is my story.
My best friend wrote a nasty blog post about me. I don't know if she actually did, it was a 'friends only' blog post. (That was presented as a less-than-funny joke, but actually, it's the truth. Comically bad things happen to me, that is one thing you will soon realise.) Being the well-connected individual that I am, someone sent me a copy. It wasn't specifically about me, allegedly, but I'd like to think that it was, attention starved as I am. Actually, that's a lie, it's quite likely that it was about me. Likely to very likely. The person at which the blog post was directed was described as ‘charismatic’. I’m quite charismatic, so naturally I assumed she was talking about me. It surprised me how naturally she made ‘charismatic’ sound like a bad thing.
The second, and perhaps more obvious, way I could tell the blog post in question was referring to me, was the fact the subject was described as being “in love with [her]”.  Well. I guess I don’t need to explain that part. Maybe you don’t think this blog post sounds very insulting. Maybe you’re thinking “Charismatic? In love? Are these negative qualities these days? I thought they were the qualities of an insanely cool Byronic hero!” The answer to this is that I promised you I would romanticize that which is shit, so I began with the nicer parts of the blog post. This will make my anecdote seem less pathetic and petty, and therefore have more potential for romanticizing.
I guess it may seem to you that me having ‘charisma’ is sort of a bit unlikely. I have to remind you, however, losing sleep over a blog post and being suave, suave as a cult leader, are not mutually exclusive. For example, today when talking with some of my fellow students, the subject a biology exam came up. The discussion moved to a specific question; something like “Where are fatty acids found?” And I responded, quickly and with vigour, “In your mother’s fat ARSE!”
One of the most insulting features of the blog post was its relative length, or rather, lack of length. I thought I meant more to her than three lines. Granted, blog post lines are longer than book lines or A4 lines, but I am still offended. In those three lines, she managed to wound me to the very core. Maybe offended was the wrong word. Anyway, what tormented me further was the fact that she created two other posts (perhaps even more than that, friends-only ones!) within the same hour, both about some ridiculous online pro-meat group. In fact, one of the pro-meat group posts was created less than 15 minutes after she allegedly made the post about me. I am apparently not even worth her 15 minutes. I thought of posting an angry comment but I didn’t want to stoop to her level.
So instead, I made a fake account, pretending to be a member of the aforementioned ridiculous pro-meat group. I set my display picture to a humorous image macro involving bacon I found on reddit. I thought it would help me ‘fit in’. I sent her a friend request. I hoped that she would accept it, so I could read her friends-only posts and perhaps, under my assumed identity, talk her into choosing me over that obnoxious ginger lad. Maybe this tone implies that I don’t think too much of myself. Well, that doesn’t matter, as I don’t. I think the real problem with this story is that it does not romanticize enough. In fact, it does the opposite. Sorry. I was trying to make it romantic, but it came out weird and self-deprecating again.
Anyway, the next day she met me in person. Or rather, she confronted me. I think she guessed the plan with the fake account. “Didn’t you think using your email address was a bit obvious?” she asked. I agreed that it was. I said I would try to be a better liar next time and she slapped me.
I tried to bring up the blog post she wrote about me but she kept ignoring me and listening to people who were more funny/ charismatic instead. To get her attention, I tried telling ‘your mum’ jokes, but they were all ones I’d used before for the same reasons. I tried to think of my own ‘your mum’ joke, but then I realized I wasn’t funny. That sort of makes me retelling this story quite pointless, doesn’t it? Well, as I said, it’s not entertainment, just raw exhibitionism. Ah well. Better stop then.