True character is determined by what you do when no one else is looking. Once again, because of this letter I recieved from Laura, my ire is raised. It shouldn’t matter to me that every time she communicates with me my character is insulted, but for some reason it does.
A Slimee Dittohead at the Top of His Game
For some reason, I feel as though I must make a few points, despite the fact I feel my position needs no explanation. First of all, I’m not the one that started this war. I posted a simple thing to my site about what was going on in my life, and Laura unleashed her hounds on me. Within minutes, there were ten or fifteen posts to the comments section of my site attacking every aspect of my character, all using ammunition she had been using for a week previous. I was exercising my God-given right of free expression. I wasn’t really thinking about how old it made me appear. At this point still, I haven’t found a point in which I care how old it made me look.
Another thing that I must explain my position on, since I’m not sure it’s been made explicit, is the reason why I decided to cut all contact with Laura…
it’s a page out of the Code of the Samurai. Essentially, when you have a relationship of any kind other than blood-ties, and that relationship is detrimental to your health, (mental, spiritual, physical), you must cut it off. By the end of the evening described here, I was gone. Completely bonkers. Wrapping my mind around her actions had put me at my wit’s end, and there was no reason to subject myself to insanity-induced tourette’s syndrome like insults. By the end of the night, I was as bad as her, throwing baseless insults back in her face. Those who know me know I don’t do that. If I insult someone, it’s usually well thought out and generally ineffectual. For me to throw out curse/cuss words means a couple cylinders aren’t firing in the ol’ rizzn-brain.
The last night we spent together, it went something like this: We were upstairs, and things were getting a little intimate. I ask her what was going on, or what she was thinking, or something, and she mentions something I did wrong three months previous. It killed the mood for me. I say something like "Well, I guess we’ll never get past this." I proceed to go make breakfast. The rest of the day turns into a long drawn out argument. I generally let her blather on with her beefs with me until late in the evening, then I finally speak up for myself. I begin to speak up for myself, and she starts crying. The moment I speak up for myself. She starts crying. It is manipulation. Plain and simple. I mean if it was an isolated incident, it wouldn’t be. But its that 10th or 11th repeat performance by that time. I hold my tongue, though. I let her cry it out. James calls and she grabs the phone from me. She’s telling him what happens, and James asks her why she started crying. She starts crying again. My guess is that the conversation didn’t sound like it was going to be an "ahh, poor baby." type response from James, so she started crying to end it early.
So we start talking again, and it very quickly blows up into her insulting me and calling me a number of very bad names. I look at her, walk away, and don’t speak to her for around three hours, just cleaning up the house. She goes out to the car, grabs a whole bunch of crafts crap and makes a huge mess in the livingroom. I remember looking at my watch and thinking, "If she doesn’t apologise for that outburst by 9 o’clock, I’m taking her home." Nine rolls around and she starts making small talk again (but never actually apologises).
Small talk somehow leads to arguments, which leads to her crying and screaming and calling me names. I finally say to her: "Listen, you are out of control. I’m no longer listening to this crap. If you open your mouth again, consider yourself talking to the wall. Get your stuff together, I’m taking you home." She then proceeds through a number of bizarre actions. She decides that I simply *must* talk with her ex-boyfriend.
To fully understand the implications of this, you must know that the whole time we were together, I know only a few things about this guy. 1) That he was simply "amazing" in the sack. 2) That he tried to chop off her fingers. 3) That she was "meant" to marry him or some other such gobbledy-gook. 4) That he probably cheated on her. 5) That he was "crazy." 6) That she talked to him online and on the phone the whole time we went out.
So she calls him around five times. Around five times I disconnect the phone. Finally I relent and let her talk to her ex, but say there is no way I’m talking to him. About 45 minutes later, I relent and let her hand me the phone.
(I’ve since had a small email dialogue with him. He seems a bit balanced to be crazy, but then I’m not in a relationship with him. And he seems like he might still be carrying a torch for Laura. Truly a massochist).
I get off the phone with him. I talk with her a little while. It degenerates into more insulting of me.
She goes upstairs and locks herself in the bathroom. She beats her head against the door and then when I go to see what’s going on, she denies she was beating her head against the door. I tell her to get downstairs and pack up her belongings, I’m taking her home. She goes downstairs, I go out to take the dog for a walk. When I left she was sortof looking forlornly at her belongings. When I come back, she’s in the kitchen rocking back and forth, holding a bottle of vodka, pouring herself screwdrivers.
She does this for like two hours, while I pack her stuff, get it loaded in the car, come back, read an entire BOOK, and then she finally speaks up and addresses me: "You need to have your stuff out of the apartment by … sun-up. That’s a good time. Anything left there will be given to the garbage men."
I calmly look at her: "
Is that your final answer? If you are telling
me I have to have all that stuff out by sun-up, then you are signing the death certificate on any relationship, friend or otherwise, we might have." How can I stand to be "just friends" with someone duplicitous like that? The only reason I hadn’t moved out sooner is because she, the whole week, had led me on some more like we were turning over a new leaf in the relationship. At her request, I might add.
So it’s like 2:00am, her final answer is that I must be out of the Apartment by sunrise. It’s a long drive from where we were back to her house, which was near the Apartment. I have no moving van, so I already know all my furniture is a loss. Needless to say, I’m anxious to get her back to her house so I can get to moving. She’s so drunk and sick from being drunk that she complains about my driving the whole way there. That, inevitably,
leads to all the other things I did to her that led her to treat me worse than you’d treat a homeless squatter who showed up in your garage. I finally lost it. I finally lost my cool. I finally started yelling at the top of my lungs. I, for the first time, threw out personal attacks that had no bearing on the facts at hand. I called her a bunch of names, and told her exactly what I thought of her since she decided to treat me with utter contempt… but still I withheld a few key points.
These key points included how I was basically turned into an escort for a date she went on just one day previous. A guy from the fetish shows named Joey
Columbo had been calling her. He asks her out on a date. I didn’t really know it was a date, but when we show up in Las Olas, there he is on the side walk, holding flowers. The whole night, I pay for dinner ($50), and spend four or five hours following them around, trying to get a word in edgewise, and have them both look at me like some sort of moron every time I try to open my mouth. (Don’t you realize? You really aren’t wanted here!)
Another key point I didn’t mention is how I knew she had been sending semi-nude pictures to my best friend. Another key point I didn’t mention are the REPEATED passes she made to my best friend. Another key point I didn’t mention is how every one of my friends report back to me all the insults that she says about me behind my back. Another key point I left out was every time I’m around her after an argument and her insults, she literally turns my stomache when I think of her or look at her.
There is more. I don’t have time for it now.
Back to the scene…. I finally get to her house, and she wants to talk more. I want her out of my car. It’s going on 3:30am and I need to be done moving by sunrise. I had originally planned on some sleep, but at this point it’s out of the question. I spent over an hour and a half trying to get her out of my car. I’d get her out of the car, go back around to the driver’s side, and she’d get back in. "Don’t let it end like this," she’d
Essentially what ensued was her creating a scene and me trying every trick in the book short of physical violence to get her to get out of my car so I could leave.
Then I went and made three thirty mile trips moving my stuff to a friends spare bedroom. Then I went to work. Twelve hours later, I was finally allowed a chance to sleep.
The next morning, I post my ordeal on the website. You know the rest of the story.