Lemme Tell Ya About The Time .... #1b
If you don't know what the fuck is going on with this tale, read here first...
So, there we were, all broken up but trying to maintain a friendship. My reasons were all money oriented, hers were that she thought we'd get back together ... at no point during any conversation did I ever imply that this would happen. In point of fact, I told her that we didn't work as a couple. She seemeed to think that this wasn't entirely true, and while it makes me nasty, five hundred bucks is five hundred bucks.
Our last day, and I mean our last day, in one another's company was July 3rd, 2002. I know this 'cuz Men In Black 2 came out, and we'd decided to go see it, as we both liked the first one.
Little did I know...
She started off early with a riposte about my weight. She told me I looked fat in the pants I was wearing. Ordinarily, this'd bug me about as much as someone saying I have glasses ... I know I'm a big kid. But, I was already in a shitty mood because some creepy weird guy with long fingernails and nicotine stains on his fingers interrupted my morning coffee. My morning coffee is very important. It's one of the few things that keeps me from stabbing people in the neck.
In retaliation, I called her a crazy bitch.
Note to readers: if the person you call crazy flips out in a really big way, it's because they're crazy. Avoid doing so a second time if you want to enjoy your day out.
After doing some running around, we made it to the theater just in time to see the movie. It wasn't good. In fact, it was the opposite of good. For some reason, six months later, I bought the DVD, reasoning to myself that events throughout the day had somehow tarnished my opinion of the on-screen chemistry between Tommy Lee Jones and Will 'How Many Times Can I Save The Earth During My Career?' Smith.
I was wrong.
Now on to the good stuff.
I can't remember why we were in Sears, except to suggest maybe we were cutting through to somewhere else. Nutjob has an almost encyclopedic memory of all the shortcuts that keep her off the streets, and often went out of her way to avoid contact with other people. (I know, I know, I should have heard the warning sirens long ago.) We're walking along, squabbling about how bad the movie was, and I'm enjoying myself because I learned how to enjoy pissing people off from dating her, and I was, like I said, in a mood.
Suddenly she sticks her thumb in her mouth and then takes a swipe at my face with a saliva-coated digit. I bust out a limbo move that woulda' made anyone proud and turn to confront her. (Remember, this in a mall, with all kinds of people around ... this is about to get interesting)
"What," I ask, mildly repulsed but still in control, "in the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You've got a smudge on your face." She sticks her thumb in her mouth again.
"So what?" I look in one of the many mirrors. If it's there, I can't see it.
"You look like a street person." She takes another swipe with her Saliva-Encrusted Thumb +10 of Germ Killing.
I bust out another Ninja Move. "Get the fuck away from me with that fucking thing!" I shout. "I wouldn't let my mother do that when I was a kid, so what the fuck makes you think I'm gonna let you do it now? Shit, this in public! I'll go to the washroom, you crazy bitch!"
(Remember my warning about the second time?)
"You are such an asshole! You look like a fucking slob! Why are you being such an asshole? You fucking pussy (she liked to call me a pussy a lot), it's just spit!" (There are only a few times spit should be exchanged, and dangling from the end of a thumb towards my face in front of the Clinique counter is not one of them)
"Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are. If you don't lay the fuck off, I swear to Christ I am out of here. I don't have to put up with this shit, you can go all the fucking way home by yourself!"
"You wanna leave? Fine, you shithead. Just fucking go."
"I will, as soon as you get your fucking cell out of my backpack."
Nutjob gets her cell out of my bag, calls me a fucking pussy again and then kind of stands there, waiting to see if I'm gonna take off or not.
I am the most angry I have ever been in my adult life. I have never had an argument with a women in public before where I've had to shout and scream. I am both embarassed and raging white hot mad at this woman who I used to have feelings for and her complete and utter lack of common sense (arguing in public, really). I do some rapid calculations in my head. "You know what? Fuck the money you owe me. I don't wanna hear from you ever again. I can't put up with this shit. You yell and scream and then act as if nothing is fucking wrong, and that's CRAZY! Fuck this, and fuck you. I am outta here!"
I spun on my heels and was gone like yesterday's news.
A few weeks later I got an email from her asking me if I wanted to go to Playland with her and someone from her work. I told her I didn't like Playland because all the rides go around very fast in circles and if I wanted to puke that much I'd just drink a case of beer by myself. She emailed me back and called me a fucking pussy for not wanting to go, and then asked if we could go out to dinner.
I didn't return that email. Or the next ten. I eventually had to let one of my email accounts lapse, which sucks, 'cuz it was one I used a lot.
And that's it for the first installment of 'Lemme Tell Ya About The Time....'
So, there we were, all broken up but trying to maintain a friendship. My reasons were all money oriented, hers were that she thought we'd get back together ... at no point during any conversation did I ever imply that this would happen. In point of fact, I told her that we didn't work as a couple. She seemeed to think that this wasn't entirely true, and while it makes me nasty, five hundred bucks is five hundred bucks.
Our last day, and I mean our last day, in one another's company was July 3rd, 2002. I know this 'cuz Men In Black 2 came out, and we'd decided to go see it, as we both liked the first one.
Little did I know...
She started off early with a riposte about my weight. She told me I looked fat in the pants I was wearing. Ordinarily, this'd bug me about as much as someone saying I have glasses ... I know I'm a big kid. But, I was already in a shitty mood because some creepy weird guy with long fingernails and nicotine stains on his fingers interrupted my morning coffee. My morning coffee is very important. It's one of the few things that keeps me from stabbing people in the neck.
In retaliation, I called her a crazy bitch.
Note to readers: if the person you call crazy flips out in a really big way, it's because they're crazy. Avoid doing so a second time if you want to enjoy your day out.
After doing some running around, we made it to the theater just in time to see the movie. It wasn't good. In fact, it was the opposite of good. For some reason, six months later, I bought the DVD, reasoning to myself that events throughout the day had somehow tarnished my opinion of the on-screen chemistry between Tommy Lee Jones and Will 'How Many Times Can I Save The Earth During My Career?' Smith.
I was wrong.
Now on to the good stuff.
I can't remember why we were in Sears, except to suggest maybe we were cutting through to somewhere else. Nutjob has an almost encyclopedic memory of all the shortcuts that keep her off the streets, and often went out of her way to avoid contact with other people. (I know, I know, I should have heard the warning sirens long ago.) We're walking along, squabbling about how bad the movie was, and I'm enjoying myself because I learned how to enjoy pissing people off from dating her, and I was, like I said, in a mood.
Suddenly she sticks her thumb in her mouth and then takes a swipe at my face with a saliva-coated digit. I bust out a limbo move that woulda' made anyone proud and turn to confront her. (Remember, this in a mall, with all kinds of people around ... this is about to get interesting)
"What," I ask, mildly repulsed but still in control, "in the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You've got a smudge on your face." She sticks her thumb in her mouth again.
"So what?" I look in one of the many mirrors. If it's there, I can't see it.
"You look like a street person." She takes another swipe with her Saliva-Encrusted Thumb +10 of Germ Killing.
I bust out another Ninja Move. "Get the fuck away from me with that fucking thing!" I shout. "I wouldn't let my mother do that when I was a kid, so what the fuck makes you think I'm gonna let you do it now? Shit, this in public! I'll go to the washroom, you crazy bitch!"
(Remember my warning about the second time?)
"You are such an asshole! You look like a fucking slob! Why are you being such an asshole? You fucking pussy (she liked to call me a pussy a lot), it's just spit!" (There are only a few times spit should be exchanged, and dangling from the end of a thumb towards my face in front of the Clinique counter is not one of them)
"Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are. If you don't lay the fuck off, I swear to Christ I am out of here. I don't have to put up with this shit, you can go all the fucking way home by yourself!"
"You wanna leave? Fine, you shithead. Just fucking go."
"I will, as soon as you get your fucking cell out of my backpack."
Nutjob gets her cell out of my bag, calls me a fucking pussy again and then kind of stands there, waiting to see if I'm gonna take off or not.
I am the most angry I have ever been in my adult life. I have never had an argument with a women in public before where I've had to shout and scream. I am both embarassed and raging white hot mad at this woman who I used to have feelings for and her complete and utter lack of common sense (arguing in public, really). I do some rapid calculations in my head. "You know what? Fuck the money you owe me. I don't wanna hear from you ever again. I can't put up with this shit. You yell and scream and then act as if nothing is fucking wrong, and that's CRAZY! Fuck this, and fuck you. I am outta here!"
I spun on my heels and was gone like yesterday's news.
A few weeks later I got an email from her asking me if I wanted to go to Playland with her and someone from her work. I told her I didn't like Playland because all the rides go around very fast in circles and if I wanted to puke that much I'd just drink a case of beer by myself. She emailed me back and called me a fucking pussy for not wanting to go, and then asked if we could go out to dinner.
I didn't return that email. Or the next ten. I eventually had to let one of my email accounts lapse, which sucks, 'cuz it was one I used a lot.
And that's it for the first installment of 'Lemme Tell Ya About The Time....'
posted by Unknown @ 9:39 AM
1 Comments:
Awwww.....Yes. I think at one point or another every man must be involved a like that. The one I was involved with many, many years ago was quite insecure, loud, and how do I put this subtlely, Batshit Crazy.
Arguments were like this:
1. I'd do one thing or another to piss her off.
2. She dash off and tell me to leave her alone.
3. I'd take it at face value and do just that.
4. She come back in a few minutes screaming about how much I didn't love her because I left her by herself which if you recall in point 2 is exactly what she said she wanted.
I'm intuitive but I'm not a mind-reader. In the end, she travelled abroad, had a fling, told me that she was moving out at the end of the month (about 5 day) while I was in Montreal.
She was extremly paranoid and hated my friends. They hated her too. Luckily, I got out of that relatively unscathed. The sex was good though.
-E
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