It’s surprisingly hard to start writing again after a five-month-long hiatus. Even just writing that first sentence was challenging, though I know in my head what I’d like to express.
Most apparent to me is the main difference that I no longer see myself as a victim, and I also don’t try to insert myself in situations where that might ever be the case. I have a good job–making more money than I’ve ever made in my life–and it’s nice to have my truck paid off and not be counting every penny when I choose to indulge myself. I was dating a guy the last few months whom I finally discovered last week had essentially been milking me for this “newfound money.” He himself had not gotten a paycheque from his employer for a couple of months; indeed, I know how to pick ’em. He was also blacking out during binges and being verbally abusive. I would not wish this on anyone, mainly because the person blacking out claims no responsibility for what they said to you the night/day/week before. (That would be incredibly convenient if we could all go thru life claiming that, right?)
This scenario was interesting to me because he kept accusing me of never returning his drunken, “I love you” proclamations (which I mistakenly did several times, whilst he was blacked out and abusive). Funny story: There’s a metal heart sculpture in downtown Vegas in which you can attach “love locks,” essentially padlocks with names, declarations of love, etc. scrawled on them. I took said boyfriend to dinner downtown and since we arrived early, I showed him the “love lock” sculpture. He gave me no response, and since he didn’t know I had an unlocked padlock in my pocket (to which I didn’t have the key, and had also written our names and the date on), we continued walking. A few minutes later I showed him the lock, and his response was, “I didn’t react to the sculpture because there were too many straight people standing around it.” This coming from an–in my biased opinion–a queeny, whiney, many times bitchy hairdresser who has confronted numerous straight people when they saw us holding hands around town. We arrived to our dinner reservation, which I was paying for, and then I called him out for being a hypocritical coward. It was then and only then that he wanted to walk back a couple of blocks and put the “love lock” on the heart sculpture. I told him it was too late, I paid the dinner bill, and dropped him off at his house. On my way home, I threw the padlock–which I impulsively locked–out on a frontage road (Dean Martin Road, specifically). It has been a long time since I’d felt that liberated…no joke.
There’s many more details to the story and the drawn-out break-up, but I won’t go into them since I’ve already gotten myself surprisingly worked up typing all this out. Needless to say, I ended the relationship a week ago after we got back from a trip to Palm Springs which–surprise, surprise–I footed all the expenses for. Following are pics of the bungalow we shared and a pic of when he threw my friend Chris’s stuff in the back of my truck, after finding my truck on the 5th floor of the employee parking garage while I was at work. (Chris is the one who had a stroke over a year ago and whom my boyfriend seemed fond enough to store his stuff in his spare bedroom after we cleaned out Chris’s storage unit in Palm Springs together. Again, funny how all that went out the window–and into the back of my truck–when we broke up.)
Am I vengeful? Not really. Am I upset that I trusted a person who put me out nearly $2K between car repair loans, nice dinners, and his dog chewing up my retainer on the morning I ended things last week (whilst he sat laughing on the floor about it with the demon dog, telling me “You can still wear the retainer, even with the dog bites on it”)? Sure…abso-fucking-lutely I’m upset, but laughing at my follies of character judgement in the process. What I learned from all this, however, was to trust my instincts more. I knew he was trouble, I knew he blacked out once a week, and I knew he cared about himself more than me. Nothing–in my opinion–is a better break-up line than texting: “You’re white trash with no money and you took advantage of a kind soul.” Vengeful? Slightly. Playing the victim? Not hardly. Here’s to a carefree, amazing summer for all of my readers…and me.