Friday, June 26, 2009

The Break Up

It appears that S.'s way of "protecting himself" is to tell all our friends a completely different version of what's happened the last three weeks. I've already talked to two people who had no idea what really happened, and since he's determined to talk a bunch of shit about me, let's clear the record. You can choose to believe who you want.

How it started:

Now A. is the friend who S. would not allow me to hang out with for two years, because if I did, he wouldn't be able to "act" the same. She's not the first girl he did this with, but the most recent one. He's admitted he was attracted to her and would sleep with her, a long time ago when we first started fighting about her, but has maintained that nothing has ever happened between them, and I believe that. I however don't subscribe to the idea that just because you haven't made out with a girl, it means you go out drinking with her a lot and your girlfriend is supposed to be okay with that.

On the Wednesday before shit started, my friend was coming over to hang out with us, and S. came home late because he'd been drinking with her. I didn't say anything. Then Thursday, he didn't want to hang out with me and my friends because he wanted to stay home that night. After hanging out, I called him to bring him some food, and he was at the bar with her. He said "come over". I said no, because it was 11. He said "I'll come pick you up." I said, stay out, I'm going home, have fun.

On Friday morning I call him and he's at the hospital with her, because she didn't want to go to her doctor's appointment and he made her. He tells me they spent all night drinking, and A. slept over at his house. He's had no sleep. I tell him that sucks because we had plans to hang out that night and now he's had no sleep. I'm annoyed. He gets immediately defensive, and refuses to apologize for making it so we can't really hang out. I hang up on him. I'm at work, I don't need to get into this stuff at work.

Minutes later I get a text message that "we're through." So I just got dumped, by text, at work. He doesn't pick up the phone when I call him, so I leave him a message to put all my stuff in his house in a bag and leave it on the porch, I'll get it on my way home from work. I'm done with this shit and I don't want to talk to him, I just want it over.

When I come over after work, A.'s there drinking with him. I tell her I'm sorry, I don't blame her for this, I call him an asshole and I leave. A. also stays there that night. He says she didn't. But her car was certainly still there that night as I was driving around crying.


So he doesn't call me for two days, but Sunday morning he decides to start calling, and we have the big fight phone call. He tells me he didn't mean to break up with me, he was just really angry about my reaction to A. He tells me he's sorry for hurting me. It's exhausting. We finally make peace, and I ask him to show me some leeway with A., to understand my feelings. He says he will.


Well here's the point upon which the worm turns. As I find out later from him, when I asked him that, he took it to mean I was asking him to tolerate my craziness with her and not let it bother him. And see, I meant, hey don't go drinking with her for days at a time.


So he asks me if I want to see him Sunday night, at the time I say no, because I'm tired and worn out from crying. I change my mind later and call him to come see me. He doesn't pick up the phone. All night. Because he's out with A. drinking.


Monday morning, he calls me and we have another huge fight. I ask him what the hell he was thinking, he tells me I shouldn't be upset he went to hang out with his friend. Then he apologizes again, and says he's sorry, he didn't mean to hurt me. He feels horrible. I forgive him. Then I go out building hunting with Jere. Afterwards we go to a bar, then I go home. On my way home I go by S.'s house, thinking I'll come over and we'll make up. He's not home.

By this point I know exactly where he is. So I drive wasted to the Spitfire. I see his car. I cry for a minute, and then I walk in. Both he and A. turn and smile at me. I walked over, slapped him twice (because the first time didn't feel hard enough) and then I leave.

About 45 minutes later he's calling and calling, saying how sorry he is and how he called me to come out (there was no missed phone call or voicemail or text) and how he thought I would like to come out and drink with them. He drives to my house, I don't let him in. The next morning he comes over my house, with coffee, and I tell him to leave me alone.

The next Saturday is the Belmont. I tell him not to show up since we had previously made plans to go with friends, and I'm still going. He doesn't, thankfully. Instead he has A. over to drink. Big surprise.

Next comes a week of S. refusing to call me, but texting me like crazy. I call him and tell him to stop texting me, if he has something to say, then call me. I'm less angry at this point than I am very very hurt. I feel like he must have done this on purpose, or he's a bonafide idiot. He doesn't stop texting me. I tell him I need an apology, not more arguement. But he insists that now I'm the one at fault because I slapped him.

On Saturday we finally have a very long phone conversation. We don't make up in the phone conversation by any means. He demands an apology for being slapped, I tell him I won't give it to him. Sure it was awful, but I was wasted and he hurt me terribly, and he's still hurting me, so fuck him. He tells me he hadn't looked at it that way before. But we still hang up on each other and nothing gets accomplished. It's very over.

At this point I hear something about him and A. I don't know if its true. If it is true, it's terrible. I decide the only thing to do is ask him outright. At that moment I'm thinking to myself, if this is over, I don't want to spend the rest of my life thinking this evil thing about him if it wasn't true. This will drive me crazy. Also it makes me feel like a fool. Things seemed to have calmed down considerably, but I get very upset over this. So I call him. Of course he doesn't pick up his phone. I get angry, and I leave him a voicemail that says I need to speak to you about something really important. He texts me "what the fuck". I tell him to call me. He doesn't. Until the next morning. Cause he was out doing....well, guess.

The next morning I tell him I want to ask if this is true, but I'm not telling him where I heard it and I ask him to not say anything to anybody about it, because I don't want to start drama. I tell him if he can't agree to this, then I don't need to talk to him about it. I just want to have a better memory of him than this.

He refuses, he in fact gets incredibly upset, screaming at me that someone could be telling people he was a baby killer and I would protect them, and I don't care about him at all. I hang up. He keeps calling me all week to try and get me to talk about this. Being the consumate salesman he keeps trying to argue me into it. I tell him I don't trust him to not start shit. He tells me it's not my decision, that if I love him, then I'll put him above anybody. I tell him I don't think I have any responsibility to put his interests over anybody elses after the way he's treated me.


There's a week of more awful phone calls, where I tell him that all his apologies sound false to me, and the fact that he goes out and does the same shit tells me he doesn't mean it. Then he tells me that yeah, he doesn't mean any of it. Also, he can't love me cause I slapped him. I call him and tell him to never call me again. He calls me 7 times after that, and then comes over my house and tries to come in, so he can have one last look at me and give me back the love letter he took away from last summer. I don't pick up the phone.

Finally, as the final weekend approaches, I break down with the pain and the drama, and I tell him what I heard but not where I heard it. He tells me its not true. I tell him I believe him. I beg him not to say anything to A., because there's no way to prove whether or not her involvement is real.

That Saturday was the Art Museum party. We all know what happened there. He showed up with girls, I told him he was a motherfucker. I left drunk and texted him about what a bastard he was.

That Sunday he comes over my house. I'm crying, he's standing in my kitchen telling me over and over how he didn't mean to hurt me, and he feels so guilty, and he feel horrible, and he loves me so much, and he keeps trying to hold me even though I'm pushing him away and his presence is obviously making me cry more. Finally he leaves.

Then I find out that the first thing he did after we talked about the rumour. was go to A. Cause he had to confront her. Despite me begging him not to, and me telling him I believed him.

So that started the 48 hours of "I hate you, I'll destroy you, you'll never work in this town again" bullshit, and yeah, that wasn't right. But it got out of my system and I realized that he doesn't love me, he does lie to me, and he's a fuckhead. It says a lot when someone who used to be in love with you can't do you the common friend courtesy of not saying anything about something stupid. And I don't deal well with betrayal. So for 48 hours I was on the "I am going to take out ads about you motherfucker" kick, and then I got drunk and it was over.

But even though I even do him the courtesy of telling him I won't do any of that shit, he still insists on talking shit about how crazy I am. I go to visit my friend Colleen, who is unfortunately his neighbor, because her cat goes missing and her boyfriend's working third shift, and I hang out with her. I don't say anything to him, I don't knock on his door. I ignore him. But as soon as I leave, he's knocking on her door demanding to hear what we talked about. And when I see her the next day, he's talking to her about restraining orders and slander suits and how he'll stop talking to her if I take any action against him. I'm ignoring him, but he makes a point of leaving when we leave, which is obvious. Then he sends me the email where he tells me I'm a liar and I'm crazy and I need therapy and once again, he loves me so much.

And now I'm getting facebook messages from a person I thought was my friend, but really is more S.'s friend, that's okay he's a good guy, but this person is also telling me to get therapy. Wonder where that idea came from?

So there you go, that's the whole story. I think I got the dates right, but I was pretty upset, so it's possible I mixed the order up. However, everything is true. I will admit I said some crazy shitty things. But when you fuck with a girls head like that, and she lets you do that for 7 fucking years, some craziness is going to come out. And if you agree with him, then fine. Why don't you just send me a check for that therapy huh? Just be sure that when he talks about calling me in 4 months, like he has the past three summers we've broken up, that you, as his friend, you stop him.

And please let this be the last time I have to talk about this, in this blog.

8 comments:

  1. They call it emotional infidelity!

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  2. You are so much better off without this craziness in your life.

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  3. One of my favorite movies of all time is Some Kind of Wonderful, and there is a scene where Amanda Jones goes up to Hardy Jenns at the big party (where everything is decided) and she slaps him twice. I've always loved that second slap, so bravo, lady.

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  4. I'm just in awe that three people actually read that thing. It's like three ells long.

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  5. I read it too.

    I don't know what to say about it all, other than I'm sorry you're putting each other through all this.

    I do think that, one way to tell how good a relationship was is to see what the breakup was like. Messy, ugly breakup == fucked up relationship, pretty much axiomatically. So, I guess by way of consolation, you should at least be glad that this is something you are now moving past.

    I hope that means you can stop hurting each other.

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  6. make that 5 people.

    i would probably be 1,000 times crazier than you feel right now if i had to deal with this stuff. seriously.

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  7. This post reminds me of one of my go-to-song that captures my prior disappointment in men oh so well:

    Paper Bag by Fiona Apple

    "I thought he was a man but he was just a little boy."

    And, hopefully you're not letting him linger b/c

    "Starving hurts but hunger works when it costs too much too love."

    xo,
    Kelly

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  8. [scratch that, reverse that: "hunger hurts, but starving works when it costs too much to love."]

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Who wants to fuck the Editors?