When we last left off I had just gotten out of a relationship with Two. With the circumstances of that breakup had pretty much left me completely bitter with girls, with school, and with life in general. It wasn’t just THAT I got cheated on, but the HOW and the complete lack of remorse. Shit like that kind of gets to you, you know?
Anyhow, I should probably get to the next girl in the story, right? That would be Three. I had seen Three around school and whatnot, I think I had lunch with her my senior or junior year. Not really sure, and it’s not really relevant. But I had been checking her out a bit, and had suspected she had been checking me out too. But then graduation came and since I was dating Two, I didn’t really give it another thought.
It was mid 1999 and graduation parties were plentiful. I decided to go to the good Captain’s party and actually sit down and talk to Three. While at this time I was still dating Two, unlike her, I had morals and standards. Sure my girlfriend was in fucking France, but throwing game at someone else just wasn’t my style. Again, I didn’t really think much about her aside from she was this cute little sophomore who wore the Radiohead shirt and could carry on a conversation about cool movies.
About a year passes, and it’s the fall of 2000. I had dated a few girls here and there, nothing really serious. I really wasn’t over One completely since there was no real closure and Two had left me so jaded and whatnot, that I really wasn’t that in to getting into something serious with anyone. I hooked back up with One, one night, gotten some closure after realizing she hadn’t changed at all, and decided to start looking for another serious relationship as soon as one seemed to present itself.
I was working at HP with The Captain and a bunch of other pretty cool guys and all is going pretty well. Aside from the hectic schedule, it was an extremely decent job. Why only decent? See, I went to school from 8 am until noon. And then I worked from 3:30 pm until 2 am. There in lies the dilemma. It cut into the social life quite a bit when you’re working 10 hours a day, going to school 4 hours a day and only sleeping 4 hours a day. Well, that and the little nap I took everyday between class and work. Point is it cuts into the whole meeting and wooing of the young ladies.
One day I was sitting there during some downtime at my machine, wishing I had something to do or read. My homework was, ironically, at home, and I hadn’t thought to bring a book. So I scurried over to the shipping department to ask the Captain if he had anything readable on him. All he had was some old Louisville Heralds that they used to wrap fragile things with when they ship them. Success. That would do in a pinch so I decided to read up on the old home town as I waited for my machine to be up and running again.
Most of it was the same old bullshit that you usually get in a small town paper: Wedding and engagement announcements, anniversaries, who died recently, who had a baby and all that. Then I stumble across an article, with pictures, about the High School Choir concert from the spring before. And who is looking back from one of the pictures? Three. I walk over to The Captain to ask him if he remembers her being at his party and the vital babetistics. I tell him that I was somewhat interested and for him to find out if she has a boyfriend, or whatever. Yes, he does remember her. Even better yet, he says if I’d like, he’d call her on my behalf to see what he could do. I love it when a plan comes together.
The weekend rolls around and with no class or work I’m sleeping my extremely tired ass off, and the only thing on my day planner is putting together a desk I bought at Sears the night before. Then at about 11 am my phone rings. “*sleepy grumble* It’s so EARLY! This had better be good…” I mumble into the receiver. It was the Captain. He had apparently done some fairly clever detective work while I was starring as the elusive Snorlax in my bed and looked up Three’s phone number in his year book the night before. He calls her, has a nice conversation about her last year and a half, catches her up on the day to day details of his life for the past few months and then gets to the nitty gritty of why he called. He has a friend, she might remember from his graduation party, and said friend is somewhat interested. He then asks if it’s permissible if he gives me her number, and says he’ll talk to her later. She consents, and I write the number down, planning on calling her the next night, for that evening was filled with desk assembly and drinking with the guys.
That night after the assembly, I head over the D.W.’s and we make a beer run to Giant Eagle and I want to stop by the video store in the plaza to rent something to play on my bright shiny new DVD player. Guess who’s behind the counter? That’s right, Three. So I look around for something non-offensive to rent, something that wouldn’t make her think that I'm a perv or serial killer loser or something. First impressions and all that garbage. Ah ha! The Toy Story box set. Perfect. It’s cute enough to score some points, and a disc I had actually wanted to see. So D.W. and I go to the counter and I check out, and I ask in passing if she’s going to be home the next night. She said, yeah, she would, and I should call her after 8 or so, since it was a Sunday and she had school in the morning.
I call and we get to chatting and I find out we actually have a lot in common. We like the same bands, she plays video games, and then I drop the bomb: “Want to go do something next weekend?” “Sure” she answers. A date was made and aside from another week of not getting enough sleep it was shaping up to be a decent evening.
The week passes and we email back and forth and make something that resembles a plan. Her friend (and my future roommate) Sexy Glen was having a get together at his house, but if we’d like to go see a movie first, she was down. But Sexy Glen saw going to chaperone to make sure I wasn’t a complete turd. Understandable, really. You’re a 17 year old girl, going on a date with someone you barely know, and that a friend from high school who called out of the blue wants to set you up with.
The only thing playing at a decent hour is The Exorcist. Not exactly what you think of when you think first date is it? Yeah, I thought the same thing too. But you have to make do with the cards life deals you, so to the movie we went. Three sat in-between Sexy Glen and me, but that didn’t stop me from making clever little quirks and jokes to both of them. If you’ve been to a movie with me, you know how this is. I like to talk during them. A lot. MST3K style. If I’m not ripping the movie apart, it’s either really good, or boring enough that I’ve fallen asleep. The movie went pretty well, and Three and I decide to go get some late night food at Denny’s. We sit and talk about all the things people talk about on first dates, and decide it’s about time to get back to Sexy Glen’s apartment.
By the time we get there the little get together had pretty much worn down and Sexy Glen and his roommate Slick were sitting there playing Mario Golf or some such thing on the Nintendo 64. Being that the party was kind of beat we decide to go to Wal-Mart in Alliance to wander around for awhile. By about the forth or fifth isle we are holding hands and grinning like idiots. Ah, young romance.
We leave with our items in tow and head back to the East Canton lair of Sexy Glenn and Slick and put in a movie. I’m sitting on the floor and Three is sitting in the chair behind me. The couch is occupied by someone or another sleeping off the mikes hard lemonade of a few hours earlier. She starts giving me a backrub. I hadn’t had a backrub in like a year and a half. Let me tell you, after working 10 hours a day, going to school 4 and sleeping next to none, a backrub is like Thanksgiving fucking dinner when you’re high. It feels amazing. Then she starts kissing on my neck. Somehow we wind up making out on the floor until like 7 a.m. All in all, not a bad first date.
We start to date, and months go by. The L Word gets dropped. We are pretty much inseparable. The first year was really fun. Lots of dates were gone on, and since she was in High School (she was 18 a week after we started dating, and I was only 19 at the time. so shut up) our schedules seemed to mesh pretty well. Families met each other, holidays and things were celebrated. Fun couple things were done and generally I wasn’t a complete depressed wreck anymore. I had finally found someone to get me over One and Two. That was a good feeling.
We started dating in October and by March I was ready to move out of my parents’ house. D.W. and The Captain shared my sentiment, and Sexy Glen’s lease was up. What’s the logical thing to do? Buy a house. Or rather, my parents bought me a house. Now before you go and think my parents just up and BOUGHT me a house, there are several details to get out of the way. They helped my sister with her wedding and some school finances, so they felt it was fair to help me out with something like this. And they didn’t buy a house and just give it to me. They got it with the intent that I rent to own from them. I was going to be paying them rent and after a few years they’d sign the deed over to me and I’d be the owner. Until then they were going to be slumlords.
The house that became The Oregon came into being on March 2nd, 2001. Jim had helped me move all my earthly belongings into the house that day and then we went to buy me a bed. For sleeping and fucking and possibly building a pillow fort. So I’m reading the classified section and there is an ad for new mattresses for $80 any size! I make a call and agree to meet this cat that night at about 7. The meeting place? A shady looking garage behind Rent-a-center on West Tusc. We pull up and there’s a Cadillac with the vanity plates ‘Lenny 3’ and an elderly African gentleman in the drivers seat. I get out of the van, and tell Jim if he sees shit go down, drive like the wind and find help. Needless to say, he didn’t need to. I bought my mattress and box springs off Lenny 3 and we went back to the house to set that monster up.
Three gets off work and comes to see my new digs. She’s suitably impressed by the fact that I have actual furniture and not big wire spools as tables and milk crates as furniture. As are my parents the next day, actually. So after Three arrives we head to Wal-Mart to pick up the essentials that I’d forgotten to get like milk and dude soap and drier sheets. We get back and Sexy Glen was waiting with the case of beer I’d given him money for earlier in the day. We had a drink to dedicate the new house and Sexy Glen left for his old house to finish packing his stuff. That left Three and I alone in the house, which ended the way you’d think it did.
The next day my folks show up with some housewarming things for me and my mom asks if Three had seen the house yet. She then sees the HUGE hickey on my neck and answers her own question with a “well…I guess that means yes…” Sick burn mom, sick burn.
The next weekend began the Legendary parties that The Oregon would be known far and wide for. You can read more about the first party in my other story The Oregon Year One: The Biffing. Although a detail I left out of that story is that the next day after cleaning up everything I found a whole fried chicken wing behind the toilet. No joke. A chicken wing with a single bite taken out of it. Just chilling behind where we poop. No idea where it came from, no idea how it got there.
I’m getting off topic here, but the parties were something that was a part of our relationship. When she started at Kent I’d call her and Carolina and they’d come down and party. I’d even place orders for her to bring friends with suitable faces and next to no morals for my roommates. We were just that considerate. She’d come over and drink with the best of them. Until midnight when she’d pass out. One time she passed out on my bed while I was washing sheets and I couldn’t wake her. So I did what you’d probably do in the situation: I made the bed over her. I left her head exposed so she could breathe and all. But I’m not sleeping bare skin on a mattress I bought from Lenny 3. She wakes up suitably unimpressed with my drunken problem solving skills and I get yelled at.
The night I made the bed over her, Carolina and I stayed up and out drank pretty much everyone at he party. We’d killed like 3 bottles of top shelf liquor and she made out with at least 2 of my roommates, so we both considered this a fulfilling evening of debauchery. That happened pretty often. Three and Carolina would get there early while I was still at work and proceed to drink with The Council of Evil. I’d come home to a completely smashed girlfriend and a roommate making out with Carolina on my couch.
The parties were fun for everyone, but apparently they work thin with Three. Even though she enjoyed attending them, she thought I should be “doing more with my life than playing ‘Animal House’ with (my) friends…” And yes, that is a verbatim quote. But what she didn’t understand is that while she only saw the fun parts of the house like the parties, it was a lot of work. Bills had to be paid, and for that to happen roommates had to be shaken down on payday. I had to keep track of like 5 people owing me various amounts of money, when they got paid, and how best to broach the subject with them.
Then there was the damage control aspect of the house. Shit was always getting broken. I had to replace windows, a door or two and various pieces of furniture during the two and a half years we lived there. Add to all that I was in school, working full time and having to drive an hour up to Kent State to see my girlfriend and you’ll see its not all college shirts and toga parties.
She was selfish. One night she went to hang out with Slick. They met at my house since Slick had moved and she didn’t know where he lived. Now I’m not the kind that had a problem with the girls I date having male friends, I’m just not a jealous person. But this….I had a bad feeling about. But I said fuck it and went to sleep when she wasn’t back at my house by 1 a.m. she rolls in at around 4 and comes to bed quietly. Nothing is said as she leaves the next day. Later that night she calls me crying, saying she made out with Slick and felt like a terrible person. Never mind that Slick and I were friends and I haven’t seen him since. Never mind the fact that she got super jealous about any girl I worked with, regardless of what they looked like. There was one girl I think she was justified in being jealous. She was the one girl that seriously thought about cheating with. But I’m just not that way. She had a boyfriend, I had a girlfriend. And I’m just not about splitting up two relationships because someone is super hot and wants me to fuck them on the desk at work.
She put her own wants and needs above the feelings of other’s. The Vacation Blog will tell you that. Anyone who puts their own sexual gratification about the health and safety of their partner is like that. The vacation was the point at which I knew we weren’t going to be together forever. We’d discussed marriage after college and all the pitfalls that go along with it. I remember lying next to her in the hotel bed, looking at her and thinking “this isn’t going to last”.
We dated for two years, and I didn’t want to let it go, even though it was over. You know how that is? Part of it was I really had no idea how to start talking to girls again. Part was I was scared to be alone again. It was depressing and miserable. I wasn’t ready to do that again. What the final straw for her was I was getting sick of her being bossy and berating me for not doing things her way. I had my own way of doing things, she had hers. Everyone is different. She didn’t quite get that concept. She thought that if it wasn’t her way, it was wrong.
I was always the one making compromises to go see her. She didn’t like smoking so I had quit. Well, quit for the most part. Carolina still gave me the occasional “Super Secret Cigarette” when I’d leave the dorm and she was out smoking late at night. I had class early one Monday and I’d go up on Sunday night to see her. The rule was I’d leave at 10 so I could drive home, get cleaned up and get to sleep at a decent hour. At 10 shed always want me to stay longer, and most of the time I did. So wound up leaving there at like midnight, getting home at around 1 getting to bed at around 2 and not waking up at 8 for class. I wound up failing 2 of my classes that way. Seems you don’t show up for class they fail you.
I got real sick and tired of her always making the rules and one day in the late summer we were going to the thrift store in Akron. I wanted to go at around 1 so I didn’t have to get up early since it was a sleep in day and I'd had to wake up early for work and doctors appointments all week long. She insisted on going at 10 a.m. I told her I'd see her at 1. and set my alarm accordingly. At 10:15 she KICKS in my bedroom door and says “You can’t even get up for this!?!”. Then she left. I shrugged and went back to sleep.
The kicker? She called my mom to tell her that I’d effectively stood her up. For a date that I'd changed the time for ahead of time. About a week later she left for school and that Sunday invited me up for the evening. I told her yes but that I didn’t want a deadline, so I had no idea she time I’d be up there. She took that as an insult and told me to not bother coming up at all. Then she said “We need to talk on Tuesday” Tuesday?!? If we need to talk, we need to talk now. But she wouldn’t talk to me until then. So I had two days to stew and think about everything. In that time I had decided that it was over, she cheated and I’d forgiven her. She wanted everything her way, and I’d made it happen. But no more. I was done, it was over. We had a lengthy conversation via the internet Tuesday night and both decided it was over. I was heartbroken, but we both agreed we weren’t happy and it was probably for the best.
A few weeks later I go through my internet history looking for a webpage I stumbled upon one night and I find her email password saved on my computer. So naturally I decide to do a little bit of post-breakup reading. Turns out she had been seeing a guy from work for the last few weeks we’d been together. AND she’d been making out with a guy she went to High School with a little bit before that. With that, I definitely decided it was for the best and that I should move on with my life and that my love life deserved better.
To Be Concluded….
Thanks for reading. But that’s it for now, kids
Heart,
The Doctor
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Doc Robinson and the Heartbreakers Part I
PARENTAL ADVISORY:
This blog contains explicit sexual content, violent imagery, and comic mischief. If you are related to me in any way (Including Auntie Nat; Excluding The Professor) PLEASE don’t read this blog. Should you choose not to heed my warning, the blame falls on you, not on me. Like the end of ‘Seven’.
The first time I had my heart broken was a little over ten years ago. Late in 1997 my friend Arch stopped by one evening after school to see if I could procure them some cigarettes from the highly illegal Drive-Thru down on Mahoning Road, as I was the cigarette dealer to all the misspent youth in the area. Smokes were still about $1.75 at the time, so I could charge the kiddos $3 a pack, still a deal, and make myself a handsome profit in the process. At the time I drove the Delta 88, which got upwards of
One Friday evening in mid November Arch stopped by to get some smokes. I was grounded for the weekend for doing some retarded shit (a story for another time). The only thing I had on the agenda for the weekend was to watch all three Star Wars movies. Preferably in a row. I had just gotten back from Lanzer’s house where I had borrowed the VHS box-set, when the doorbell rang. I went from my room in the basement to the front door and Archie and this brunette girl (who we’ll call One) I had never seen were sitting on the stoop. I sat down, lit a Camel and starting talking to them. One was new in town and had just moved in with her father and step-mother, who lived about half a mile away. Then this Girl who I’d been talking to off and on walked up to my house and asked me for a ride to work, and having nothing else to do, decided to drive her into town to the restaurant she worked at. I really wasn’t impressed with One and honestly forgot about her for the time being.
So the Girl I was talking to as the time was friends with One, Arch, and a few other kids that lived in my general geographic location. We all began to hang out, and being smokers, I was their nicotine pimp. Part of the joys of being the only one with a car and a license in the area, I suppose. I was over at Girl’s house listening to music and getting my teenage flirt on and One just wasn’t getting the hint to bug off and let me and Girl be alone for some quality make-out time. Taking the cock block a level further was when One asked me to give her a ride home after screwing up my flirty fun make-out time. Sure, anything to get you to shut up and impress upon Girl that I was a nice guy to her friends.
Then one day, out of the blue, One calls me and asks if I can take her to get smokes. Sure, no problem. I was heading out to get some for myself anyway. That soon turned into “Want to go hang out at the park with the guys?” which morphed into “Want to go to the park and hang out with me?” Girl and I had pretty much stopped talking due to a guy in her grade, so I figured what the hell, why not? And all that led to us starting to date.
I spent pretty much the whole summer between junior and senior years at her house. We enjoyed the same music, the same shows, and the other random bullshit that make a High School relationship a High School relationship.
A few months go by and her parents go out of town and leave her and her dirt bag step-brothers to watch the house. Now what do dirt bag kids do when asked to watch a house? Yes, you in the back with your hand up? That’s right: throw a party. Not being allowed out past 11, and with a party at my girlfriend’s house I do the only thing a seventeen year old can, nay MUST do. I kissed my mom goodnight, went to my room, shut the light off, waited until the old folks sent to sleep and snuck out the window to walk to the party. Was it an eventful party? Not at all. But it did have one consequence. Seems one of her dirt bag stepbrothers got drunk and either passed out in the yard with a plastic bottle of cheap vodka, or got drunk and decided to throw said bottle in the yard. That bottle got missed when they did the perfunctory post teenage party cleanup. Who found the bottle? One’s father. So he calls the police and everyone at the party gets in trouble. Everyone but me. Her step-mom thought I was a nice boy and knew I would get my ass kicked for sneaking out to go to a party at a girl’s house that my parents disliked. So she failed to mention to her husband that One had told her that I’d been at the party. Everyone at the party gets put on probation and gets random drug tests and whatnot, pretty standard stuff. It was then that I found out the One partook in the marijuana on a pretty regular basis. So she had to stop smoking pot and get her shit together due to legal constraints, and from what I could tell, did so.
Her probation went by and she was no longer drug tested on a regular basis, and we’re sitting in her room watching TV on her bed. I start to doze off and her phone rings. Its one of her friends congratulating her on getting off probation and saying pretty much good job on stopping smoking pot for 6 months. Then she said the words that wake me up and kick in my teeth. “Well, the thing is I didn’t really stop smoking. I just hid it from everyone and got some of that tea from my sister that cleans out your piss.” I sit up, look her dead in the eyes and say “You’re a fucking liar” and storm off. The Delta 88 got well over its
The thing with me and pot was that I kind of outgrew it. I used to get high and all that stupid teenage shit, but it just kind of petered out after I stopped hanging out with the stoner crowd. Pretty much like after I turned 16 and could drive places and do things other than sit around and get high in someone’s basement or barn it was just kind of played out for me. It was kind of “Holy shit, I can do other stuff that’s WAAY more fun AND legal now! Fuck smoking pot and listening to Pink Floyd man, I’m out of here!”
It was the lie that really pissed me off more than anything. Plus here was a girl I’d spent the better part of a year with who was high pretty much all the time. So I decided to get high with her and show her that it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. That didn’t work at all like I though it would. It pretty much just encouraged her to smoke more pot. At my wits end I typed up an Ultimatum. It pretty much said “It’s the drugs or me” thinking the choice was clear: I’m a pretty decent boyfriend while pot was just sketchy green stuff that made the Grateful Dead tolerable. I drove over to her stoner friends house and gave her the note, telling her I’d see her tomorrow at lunchtime after she’d had time to read it and make a decision. Know what the decision was? Pot.
I was destroyed as a person. It wasn’t just the getting dumped; it was the getting dumped for drugs. I was like ‘Really? Over pot? Goddamn stoners….’ And I had to spend the rest of the day at school completely wrecked, telling everyone everything was OK when they asked why I wasn’t being the funny sarcastic guy they’d all grown to know and love. The kicker? I get into my car after the longest day ever was over and drive out of the parking lot. What comes on the radio? ‘Why Can’t This Be Love’ by Van Halen. I turned to the radio and said “*Sigh*….Fuck you Eddie Van Halen…” Then I went home to be left alone. Alone with my hatred for Van Halen.
This is why I really have no love for drugs or the people that use them.
During the few single months to follow I had the prerequisite Rebound thing going on with a friend of mines ex-girlfriend and future ex-wife. You see, the day after One threw me under the Technicolor VW minibus to be with her one true love, drugs; Ex-Ex gave me a note in First period English class. I came into school looking like a bag of shit and generally not caring at all about life. Hair a mess, bags under my eyes, unshaven, same clothes I wore the day before, smelling like I slept in an ashtray, the whole first heartbreak falling apart thing. The note kind of kicked me out of my self-induced stupor. What did it say? “I want to molest you 12 different ways. <3"> Naturally being the honorable person that I am, even after my first big breakup, I go to said friend and ask his permission to …..well, I’m not really sure what I asked his permission to do. Date her? Bang her I guess?
But we didn’t really date, per se. It was more of a “My parents aren’t home, let’s go to my house and make out” type of thing we had going on. And at that point, that was fine with me. The permission was granted with a “But Dude…you know she’s the Congressional Representative of Slutsylvania, right? Like after her and I broke up, she decided to change her career choice to ‘Full Time Whore’. Yeah, go for it, I guess. Better wrap your rascal though.” Then over Christmas break my mom and I drove out to
The second day I was back from
This is why I don’t do One Night Stands.
The second girl to break my heart was a whole different story. See to explain this one properly we have to go way back. Like Junior High back. I was in Eighth Grade, and she was in Sixth. Turns out that even though I was one of the kids that kept to myself and she was one of the popular preppy click girls she had a bit of a crush on me from seeing me in the hallways and whatnot. Did she tell me then? Nope. This was all learned after the fact. When you’ve just gotten out of a relationship based on lies and then went against your better judgment and banged a slutty girl in your English class, it kind of swells your pride to hear shit like that, you know? Buy yeah; I went stag to a High School dance my senior year, shortly after One used my heart for rolling papers and burned my emotional well being to ash like so much cheap Gondo bought from a sketchy guy at the park. A mutual friend that knew of her love from afar set me up to dance with her. This apparently made her night. A few weeks go by and while looking up local people on AOL I see Two’s profile. So I sent her an Email and we start chatting. We meet up for coffee and start to hang out pretty regularly. I tell her that after what happened between me and One, I really didn’t want to put myself out here and have a girlfriend for fear of getting my heart kicked in and having Van Halen mock me yet again. She pleads her case, saying she’d never lie to me, that she’s been pretty much in love with me for years and that I should give her a chance. I think about it and decide I need to get over myself, and that everything she said was true. That is the event that leads to us starting to date.
This is one of the few girls to make me mad and piss me off on a regular basis. I mistake that for “Gee….I must really care for this girl if she can get to me like this.” Nope, she was just an irritating twat. So I meet the family, who love me by the way, and we get fairly serious. Her 12 year old little brother in particular. But I think that had something to do with the fact that I played video games with him and took him to McDonald’s and shit. Oh, and I bought him a Darth Maul Lightsaber. You know, since I had the Qui-Gon Jinn one. Anyhow, she meets my family and they like her. This is a welcome change from dating One. The folks HATED her because she was kind of slutty and whatnot. And I think Big Liz could smell the fact that she was a degenerate stoner. So I come home from work one night and see Two and Big Liz sitting in the kitchen talking. “Uh oh…..What’s all this then?” Turns out they double teamed me to get me to go to the prom. I had already told Two ‘Absolutely Not!’ on the prom front. But when your mom and your girlfriend team up on you? You don’t stand a fucking chance. My only condition? A Tux with Chuck’s. Prom goes off without a hitch and I’m bored as hell. Graduation nears and the school year draws to a close.
With the school year wrapping up, the Sophomore French class has the option to go on a trip to
She starts babysitting for someone her parents know on a fairly regular basis. And with that comes sex in a stranger’s house, which is pretty fun if they have a pool. I go over there one night to get my groove on after the kids go to sleep and she’s not there. In fact, the parents aren’t even going out that night. I’d been lied to again. OK, I’m going home to be irritated and call her house. Her parents have no idea where she is, they assumed she was out with me. Nope. This was not the case at all.
Turns out she had lied to her parents and me and was at the County Fair with some friends. And by ‘some friends’ I mean ‘some friends from work and a guy who was in the grade between us. Turns out the fact that I was broke at the time, from spending all my money on her, wasn’t getting the promotion I was being promised at work, and assorted other reasons that didn’t make sense to a rational non-twatty human being I wasn’t worthy of being her boyfriend. So instead of dumping me like a human with a heart would, she decides to cheat on me and then lie about it. Oh and when I call her on it she confesses that this isn’t the first time this has happened.
She first cheated on me with a guy she worked with about three months prior. While I was at her house playing Pokemon with her little brother waiting for her to get off work. Wonderful! The second time she cheated on me was in
When she gets home and finds me on AIM I pretty much ask “Where the FUCK have you been? You stood me up AND lied to your folks. Anything you need to tell me?!?” The answer was yes. She confessed that she’d screwed around on me, crying, and told me that no matter what she still loved me. I’m not even crushed by this news, since I’d suspected something like this for some time, so I’m fucking furious and told her I should have followed my instincts and never dated her in the first place. She then broke down and confessed her repeated infidelity, in pretty fair detail, out of spite. This is NOT what someone wants to hear at any time for any reason. I support telling your partner that you cheated if you’re really sorry about it, but don’t go into detail and don’t rub it in. that’s just crass and rude.
She goes on to say that the reason she can’t date me is because I’m a loser and she doesn’t think I’m going to go anywhere in life. Due to the fact that it was the summer after Graduation and I was treating nowhere near as such. I was however, going to school full time and working 36 hours a week and working on taking my tests to get promoted from head cook and cashier at KFC to Shift Supervisor. Yeah, that shows that I’m lying around being a lazy fuck and not doing anything with my life, like bettering myself instead of fucking random dudes in foreign countries. At this point she’s pretty much TRYING to piss me off by saying I never meant anything to her, calling me pet names I’d shot down because they weren’t cute, clever, or accurate and, this is a direct quote, saying “your fuck was fun.” Who the fuck says shit like that? Like you screw up a relationship by cheating and you try to shift the blame to other person when they say “Jesus, I told you this wouldn’t work.”
One of the hardest things about splitting up with Two was the family. Her parents loved me and her little brother adored me. When I went over to her house to get some CD’s and shit I’d left over there, little brother asked me all teary eyed “Can we still be friends? Are you still going to be coming over to play Game boy with me?” I kneeled down and looked him in the eyes and said “Kiddo, I don’t think I can. You’re a really great kid and we’ll always be friends, big guy. But I don’t think I can keep coming over here now that your sister and I aren’t dating anymore.” Then I hugged him goodbye, got in my truck and waved at him and the parents as I drove off.
This is why I can’t date a woman with kids. You’re not just breaking up with the girl; you’re breaking up with the kid. And I'm not sure I can do that again.
To Be Concluded………
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