Around town, Jason Babcock has a reputation as a drunk asshole. About three months ago, he quit drinking, and from what I can see, he’s actually a pretty decent person now. We’ve been chatting online for a few days, and last night he came over so we could talk one-on-one for the first time. He was sweet, soft-spoken, and told me he thought my boys were awesome. He stayed for six hours, but it felt like maybe two. Time flew. We played Wii and talked a lot. There’s a spark.

Honestly, because of his reputation, I had zero interest at first. But now? I’m not so sure. He’s offered to help me with whatever I need while I recover from my broken foot, and we text constantly. It’s simple, kind, and makes me smile more than I expected.

The hard part is TJ. I know I’m not over him yet, as we spent a couple years on-and-off. He’s going to be here to help me for a couple days after my surgery, even though he’s been very clear that he doesn’t want to be back together and doesn’t want me depending on him. That’s what makes it so uncomfortable. I didn’t ask for his help, and honestly, I didn’t really want him here either. I hate that I need his help.

Right now, everything feels unresolved—and I’m just trying to navigate it without getting hurt any more than I already have.

This is a true account written in my own words during the time it happened. I’ve lightly edited it for clarity in the present day (2026), with minimal exclusions, while keeping the original voice and meaning intact.