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psycho guest entry (Page two)...
wasn't always a COPBS, nope I'm more used to being the object
of crazed obsessive stalking myself. In fact, just a few weeks
ago this drummer guy named Joe followed me around my sister's
apartment complex for days and days and kept
asking me out on dates
and writing me really crappy songs despite knowing that
I already had a husband and a boyfriend. Hmmm now that
I think about it, perhaps I should have only told him about the
husband or the boyfriend, not both.
Maybe he got the idea I was easy or something.
there I go veering off subject again. Sorry, had an epiphany there
yeah, I could edit that little detour out, but I figure it's good advice and might
come in handy to somebody, someday.
it does sort of lead us to the object of my crazed obsessive stalking,
my boyfriend P. Or, at least I think he's still my boyfriend.
It's hard to say right now, because we're on a break. We're
not supposed to talk to each other for a week, so I have no idea
what he is doing right now or with whom.
Or even if he's still alive. I always thought I'd just
know if somebody I loved died, but I woke up certain
he was dead last week and called him to check and he was
very much alive, so perhaps my deathdar doesn't work so well. Boy was that
embarrassing I cried with relief when I heard his voice
and everything. P. didn't seem to mind, though; he was very sweet
about the whole thing. He
did kind of disappoint me by giving me a rational explanation
for me waking up all panicky and thinking he was dead I
dunno, I wasn't feeling
very much like learning about how my brain works in sleep just
then. I was hoping more for an "Oh my god, aren't you just the sweetest
thing, worrying about my mortality that way" reaction, but
that's just me. He probably gets a little annoyed when he tells
me about what happened at work and I ask what everyone was wearing.
should probably pause to mention here that I'm still technically
married and P. is divorced at least we hope so, there's
some confusion over that and that P. lives in Ireland and
I'm in Tennessee right now and we are both under enormous strain
for all sorts of reasons like work and money, and frankly, we've
become snarly with frustration.
until last week we were lovey dovey and being all brave and spunky
in a sitcom theme song kind of way about the whole situation.
It was beautiful; he was Shirley to my Laverne, I was Balki
to his Larry. We stood tall on the wings of our dreams
rain and thunder, wind and haze; we were bound for better days.
We were going to make our dreams come true and what's more
we'd do it our way, yes, our way.
though, things changed and we began to grate on each other's nerves.
We'd say the wrong thing and hurt the other's feelings
or be oversensitive and take things the wrong way. The stress
was really getting to us, so I called him up and said those fateful
know, maybe we should just not talk for a week and see how we
soon as I heard myself speak, I knew that wasn't what I wanted.
I should have taken it back right then, but I was tired and stubborn
and had too much pride to say "I didn't really mean that,
I was just trying to get your attention so that you would know
how miserable I am and maybe we could fix it because all this
fighting scares me and if I lost you, the world would stop."
was hoping maybe he'd understand that anyway, but all he said
was "Okay, if that's what you want.
Talk to you in a week. Bye." He has an accent you know, which made it all the more poignant.
instead of saying "Sweetheart, no, that's not what I want,
how could I want that?" I said, "okay then, bye."
And hung up.
was brave and optimistic about it, thinking yeah, that was a grown
up thing to do. Give each
other a little space, take time to work out our own personal problems
this could be good. We would come back to each other refreshed
and eager to see things through.
lasted about five minutes then I got this panicky feeling
like my heart was falling out and I had to email my friend A.
and tell her all about it. I thought perhaps we could discuss
this over some International Foods Coffee and nurture each other's
spirit or whatever it is that girl friends are supposed to do.
So, even though I was panicked, it wasn't that bad; heck, on paper
it all sounded great and it would give A. and me a chance
to bond and maybe read Maya Angelou poems to each other. It would
take our friendship to the next level, somewhere beyond "sisterly"
but not quite to the "exploring our sexuality together"
General Foods International Coffee.
Ask for it by name.
while I'm waiting for her to reply (took her ten minutes by
the way. TEN! I love A. and all, but sometimes I think she's
not as available to me as I'd like) I started feeling more and
more panicked and less and less sure of myself, so I went ahead
and wrote the entire Tracy emergency support team (including
Omar) to let them know that I was suffering and in pain and they should
all treat me like an idiot child for the next seven days. God bless them, they were happy to oblige. Could
have done without the "And that's different from how we
treat you now, how?" comments, but I'm sure they meant
it in the nicest way possible.
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