In this week’s issue of People, there’s a blurb about Kimberley Locke getting engaged. Last year, Kim’s name was a sore spot as she was my arch nemesis. After Clay moved out of their place, I no longer felt the urge to pelt her with frozen Jell-O shots, but I still occasionally felt a twinge of resentment. Phantom resentment pains.

Last week, I accidentally downloaded a clip of Kim on American Idol singing ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me’. I was so overjoyed with the wonderfulness of it that I inadvertently shouted, “I love Kim!”

When I realized what I had done, I stuck my head in the toilet and flushed repeatedly to wash away the dirty feeling. When that didn’t work, I ran down the street sobbing and into the nearest church where I tried to repent for my sins. I climbed inside a confessional and knelt down. Until then, I’d never been anywhere near a confessional, so I wasn’t sure what to do. I tried reciting what few bible verses I could remember from my church going days. “I layeth down in green pastures in the valley of death and the shadows of a Shepard. And he saw that it was good.”

A voice came from the other side of the booth and called me ‘my child’ and asked how I had sinned. “Who the hell are you?” I demanded to know. He was taken aback when I asked to see his ID. He refused to prove his authenticity as a priest, so I jumped out of the confessional and hid behind a pew.

I was kicked out a few minutes later when a nun caught me drinking their stash of holy water.

“But I need to be cleansed! I need to be cleansed!”

“The lord cannot help you now.” She said as she locked the doors.

I have since come to terms with my new love for Miss Locke. I longed for us to become close. I wanted peace. I wanted friendship. But mostly, I wanted to attend her wedding cause I figured Clay would be there.

I thought the civil thing to do would be to call Kim and congratulate her. So I did. But first I had to make sure the lucky man wasn’t Clay.

“It’s not Clay is it?”

“No, but it should be. If only to get rid of you.”

“Why must you hate?” I asked.

“You threw a jolly rancher at me! And I found out it was you who attacked me on my video shoot!”

“Those are old wounds, Locke! Let them heal! Let them heal!!”

“I still have a scar on my elbow where you bit me!” She shouted.

“I like you Kim. Don’t ruin it. Besides, I was aiming for your face. You’re the one who stuck your elbow in my mouth.” She growled.

“Will we ever mend this relationship, Kim?”

“What relationship? We have no relationship.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“You are so not a player.”

“Look, whatever problems we had in the past-“

She interrupted me. “You are the problems in the past.”

“It’s not my fault you made bad choices. You never should have lived with my man!”

“I was nothing but nice to you.” She fumed. “And you put itching powder in my wardrobe!”

“One mistake. It was one mistake.”

“What about the spider in my shoe? And the phone calls about my refrigerator running. And the basket of plastic apples you sent me!”

“I was young back then, Kim. I didn’t know any better.”

“The apple basket was a week ago! I busted a tooth biting into one of those things.”

“It was supposed to be a peace offering. Can’t we be friends?”

“I don’t wanna be friends!” She shouted.

“Well, can I come to your wedding?"

“No!” “You know, my friend said she met you and you were soooooo sweet. She’s a liar.”

“I am sweet!” She shouted angrily. “But not to people who throw things at me.”

“I like you, Miss Locke. I really. Please, let’s not end things this way.”

She hung up.

“Yeah, you better hang up.”