Crazy crazy crazy... and me without a straight jacket
So as of last night, around eleven, I bundled myself into bed with a glass of wine and some chocolate, looking forward to an early night, glad that he had never gotten back to me and content with my decision to break things off the next time we talked.
About half an hour into my episode of Star Trek (yeah, laugh all you want) my phone beeped. "Where you at?" I made a face at the phone, replied, "at home". "Weak". I was unimpressed. Over 24 hours of ignore had made me edgy. "Oh weak yourself" I said. "Step Up" was his reply. Now I'm pissed. "Excuse me?" Of course his next text was unintelligible. I picked up the phone. Nothing. "Hey there baby" and then noise. I hung up. Waited for him to go outside and call back. Waited a moment longer. Something snapped, and my good will went out the window. I had been played somehow, he had manipulated me into showing my hand when he'd had no intention of showing his. Drunk or no drunk, there was no longer any excuse. Texts are so easy to send, twenty four hours of phone silence is just plain disrespectful, not to mention some lame drunken attempt to get me out to some random club. My body shook as my fingers flew. "Sounds like you are having a good night, thanks for getting back to me. I do not enjoy being jerked around and I'd suggest you stop toying with me. If you're not too hungover you can call me tomorrow." Silence.
I pounded over to my flatmate and yelled, screamed, ranted. What a COCK. My newfound english vocabulary taking over. COCK! My phone beeps. ":p" I put the phone down and rationally decide to go for a walk. Ending up at DPG's, as she knows him, to shed some light, and listen to my rants. Shortly after I arrive it beeps again. ":p" Oh my anger knows no bounds and I turn off the damn thing.
About half an hour and much dissection (not to mention my relief that he had at least made my decision to cut him loose a very easy one) I turned my phone back on. Three messages in half an hour. "I'm coming over" "You suck" "its all good times". No, no, no. I finally cave and reply. "Don't come over, I am not even home and you don't know where I live. Go to bed, Call me tomorrow." Then I ring. I ring again. I ring a third time and this time I pick up, hang up. Text message again. "Where you at? I'm burning bridges and I don't care." And I turn my phone back off.
I head home, an hour or so later, feeling calmer and decidedly amused. I mean, the amount of power that comes from someone realizing what a dick they have been is pretty heady, and I am about to roll into bed when the predicted email rolls around. Some lame attempt at a pre-emptive dump (beating me to it, as it were, since he now knows it is coming) and a lame excuse for it at that. I decide not to reply and wait for the morning, he being clearly angry and crazy. Turning my phone on one last time, one last text, angry and bitter: "have fun wherever you sleep tonight". The remnants of my anger flare again. Breaking my vow to DPG not to respond any longer, I text back furiously. "Don't be silly, I was at a friend's and just got home. I am going to bed and turning off my phone" Silence.
Silence.
I wake up after far too little sleep, and over tea I write him back. Composed, I explain that he knows his reasoning to be false, he knows that I did nothing but give him time and honesty, that he has issues that have nothing to do with me, and that I felt jerked around. Snap. Off to class with a grin on my face, the anger of the late night dissipating in morning fog and '40 Miles From The Sun' and turning into hilarity. Somehow, no matter what I try, the madness follows me wherever I go.
The sheepish text comes soon after I leave class. Politeness regained, he even said please. I debated, but knowing that being the bigger man included all of the trappings, I called back, arranged a time. I am still angry, and I don't plan on pulling any punches, that's what happens when you jerk with a smart girl who won't take your crap.
On my way home, soon after this conversation, I run into the South African. He is leaving town today, by now probably on a bus to the airport, and I agree to meet him for a drink. Yet another moment of 'single-service-friend' wisdom and we exchanged email addresses. Because sometimes single-service isn't in the cards. He was prolonging our goodbye too much to walk away from it, sometimes things fit very quickly into something far too familiar. And you have to wonder if you knew each other in a previous life, or if sometimes the world has a twisted sense of humour. If the past twenty four hours are any indication, it is both.
And so continues my seventh week, began hellishly badly and turned bizarre, hopefully on the upswing with an essay-epiphany this morning through a caffeinated haze, and drinks tonight with my ladies. A bientot!
About half an hour into my episode of Star Trek (yeah, laugh all you want) my phone beeped. "Where you at?" I made a face at the phone, replied, "at home". "Weak". I was unimpressed. Over 24 hours of ignore had made me edgy. "Oh weak yourself" I said. "Step Up" was his reply. Now I'm pissed. "Excuse me?" Of course his next text was unintelligible. I picked up the phone. Nothing. "Hey there baby" and then noise. I hung up. Waited for him to go outside and call back. Waited a moment longer. Something snapped, and my good will went out the window. I had been played somehow, he had manipulated me into showing my hand when he'd had no intention of showing his. Drunk or no drunk, there was no longer any excuse. Texts are so easy to send, twenty four hours of phone silence is just plain disrespectful, not to mention some lame drunken attempt to get me out to some random club. My body shook as my fingers flew. "Sounds like you are having a good night, thanks for getting back to me. I do not enjoy being jerked around and I'd suggest you stop toying with me. If you're not too hungover you can call me tomorrow." Silence.
I pounded over to my flatmate and yelled, screamed, ranted. What a COCK. My newfound english vocabulary taking over. COCK! My phone beeps. ":p" I put the phone down and rationally decide to go for a walk. Ending up at DPG's, as she knows him, to shed some light, and listen to my rants. Shortly after I arrive it beeps again. ":p" Oh my anger knows no bounds and I turn off the damn thing.
About half an hour and much dissection (not to mention my relief that he had at least made my decision to cut him loose a very easy one) I turned my phone back on. Three messages in half an hour. "I'm coming over" "You suck" "its all good times". No, no, no. I finally cave and reply. "Don't come over, I am not even home and you don't know where I live. Go to bed, Call me tomorrow." Then I ring. I ring again. I ring a third time and this time I pick up, hang up. Text message again. "Where you at? I'm burning bridges and I don't care." And I turn my phone back off.
I head home, an hour or so later, feeling calmer and decidedly amused. I mean, the amount of power that comes from someone realizing what a dick they have been is pretty heady, and I am about to roll into bed when the predicted email rolls around. Some lame attempt at a pre-emptive dump (beating me to it, as it were, since he now knows it is coming) and a lame excuse for it at that. I decide not to reply and wait for the morning, he being clearly angry and crazy. Turning my phone on one last time, one last text, angry and bitter: "have fun wherever you sleep tonight". The remnants of my anger flare again. Breaking my vow to DPG not to respond any longer, I text back furiously. "Don't be silly, I was at a friend's and just got home. I am going to bed and turning off my phone" Silence.
Silence.
I wake up after far too little sleep, and over tea I write him back. Composed, I explain that he knows his reasoning to be false, he knows that I did nothing but give him time and honesty, that he has issues that have nothing to do with me, and that I felt jerked around. Snap. Off to class with a grin on my face, the anger of the late night dissipating in morning fog and '40 Miles From The Sun' and turning into hilarity. Somehow, no matter what I try, the madness follows me wherever I go.
The sheepish text comes soon after I leave class. Politeness regained, he even said please. I debated, but knowing that being the bigger man included all of the trappings, I called back, arranged a time. I am still angry, and I don't plan on pulling any punches, that's what happens when you jerk with a smart girl who won't take your crap.
On my way home, soon after this conversation, I run into the South African. He is leaving town today, by now probably on a bus to the airport, and I agree to meet him for a drink. Yet another moment of 'single-service-friend' wisdom and we exchanged email addresses. Because sometimes single-service isn't in the cards. He was prolonging our goodbye too much to walk away from it, sometimes things fit very quickly into something far too familiar. And you have to wonder if you knew each other in a previous life, or if sometimes the world has a twisted sense of humour. If the past twenty four hours are any indication, it is both.
And so continues my seventh week, began hellishly badly and turned bizarre, hopefully on the upswing with an essay-epiphany this morning through a caffeinated haze, and drinks tonight with my ladies. A bientot!
posted by Care | 1:25 PM
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