Telling people to die in a fire

Last night I got snowed on on the way to a friends for dinner.  Just the five or so metres from the car to the house had enough snow on me to be worth posting a picture of it to Facebook.
And a perfectly grown-up dinner had been cooked for me.
Three proper meals in a day, and a cheese roll at a cafe.  I am like a person.
A person who very much enjoyed standing in front of a fireplace on a cold night and being around other people.

I came home and had another night failing to sleep.

And in a follow-up to yesterdays stupidity I exchanged more texts with Shitlord.  I asked him to die in a fire, and he just apologised and claimed he wished he could take away the pain he cause me.
He is acting like a human, which really, really doesn't help.
When he acts decent is so much easier to believe that all his dick behaviour was somehow accidental.

But if his power games and manipulation were accidental - I don't know that that is an improvement.  If the super dickish parts of the relationship were on purpose then he was an arsehole choosing to be an arsehole.
But if he did those things without realising it: maybe it means he is just so damaged it is the only way he knows how to interact and with some help can fix his behaviours; but maybe it means he is just dangerous for me to be around as he will do the same or worse again without awareness.

And I may never know which is which.

If I am sensible I will cut him off entirely.  But I love the arsehole too much to bring myself to do that yet.  Maybe ever.

In other news, I have had sensible meals at both appropriate times so far today and finally opened the bag of bonbons I bought myself over two weeks ago.  My favourite sweets which have been sitting on my desk untouched for a surprisingly long time.  I have now devoured them, like a regular me thing to do.