I sent this last night after drinking too much with friends, one of whom knows he who should not be named and was telling me stories about him hitting on a 23 year old in front of said 23 year old's boyfriend, who he happens to work with. I guess that sort of low behaviour set me off.
Hey,
Just in case you need a tie anytime soon, your ties have been donated to the Goodwill on Lynn Rd. Don't even ask what happened to your Princeton ring....
Payback is a bitch,
(insert my name here)
Needless to say it prompted a response.
I was laying in bed, feeling rough b/c of the cold and the bourbon, and the phone rang. I had forgotten, call it that first wake up amnesia I've recently written about, about my short missive from the night before. But the phone ringing brought it all back, so I answered knowing I would have to face the music. Aw fuck why did I send it?
There was lots said. Him saying I'm mean and manipulative. Him saying that I care for no one else. Saying he really doesn't dye his hair, that he can't talk about me with people because he gets upset, that he doesn't understand why I feel the need to be mean to him...it goes on from there. He said, you've won, good living apparently isn't enough for you, you have to be mean, why do you have to be mean, what did I do to you but just protect myself?
(That is the funny thing about egoists. The harm they do is never intentional.)
Here are some exchanges:
Hags the Fag: People never ask me about you? Do you know why that is?
Me: Because you dumped me (and your callousness makes people uncomfortable)
Hags the Fag: No, because the few who did, when I talked, I ended up crying.
(Booo fucking hoo. How does it feel?)
Hags the Fag: Do you tell people you broke up with me in Houston? I bet you leave out the part about you being so moody and bitchy.
Me: Nope they know that. They also know the circumstances (hormones,prednisone) under which my body was operating. I've told people I was a bitch that weekend.
Hags the Fag: Then you called me back a few hours later, changing your mind, after you took that "test." I broke up with you to protect myself. I am not a guy who doesn't stay when times get tough.
Me: Chuckle. Whatever.
(Actually, yes yes you are that guy. You have become a walking cliche. You are the guy who leaves. You are the guy who didn't put into context that I just lost my job, lost half my hearing, and was facing some difficult choices. You cared naught for me, only for you. And honestly, this past spring and summer was the very time when I needed someone else caring for and about me. The very time. You didn't do it. You lost patience. Things were very, very bad for me and you ran. And I, and my great and wonderful friends, picked me back up and put me back together...)
He cried some. I didn't. I'm all cried out over him.
HtheF: Please tell me what you did with the ring. Please.
Me: If only you cared about people as much as you care about your stupid ring.
He said he cracked his ribs, god knows how, but he says he wasn't drinking. I tell this to Fun Girl, and again in her easy, breezy, wiser than she knows way, she says:
He didn't fall. That was God and Karma kicking him in the ass.
God, how did she get so good at putting so much into so few words.
No comments:
Post a Comment