Good Boy

I've considered telling this story time and again, and every time my little fingers start tapping away, I inevitably wipe it all out and tell another in it's place. I even struggled to tell my closest friends for months after it's happening. You see, when I tell a story about the crazy events of my life I prefer sentences that end with 'went batshit crazy' begin with 'The day he/she', not so much 'The day I'. Sure, there may be a small, tiny, miniscule, evil little part of me that might still get a big smile and warm fuzzies whenever I think about this particular event, but I prefer to keep the wicked side of me kept locked safely away in a dark corner deep in my brain and bring it out only in situations where nothing else will do.

This was most definitely one of those situations.

To be able to fully understand this day, you need two brief histories. First, I have two dogs. They're spoiled rotten and I love them dearly. We've established guidelines for the times they allow me to pretend I'm in charge. One of those times is when they come in from doing their business. They know before they are allowed to come back inside I expect them to sit and enter one at a time. It works for us. Second, I was involved with a man who was a horrible person that made me endure embarrassment far beyond what any person deserves no matter her ability to attract the unusual. When it all came crashing down, I had a horrible time trying to get him to stay away. Sure, I could have called the police and fixed things that way, but I had only just moved into my house and didn't want to be that neighbor. So, on the days when I'd come home and find his sorry ass making himself at home again, I'd turn on the horrible bitch in me and keep her firmly in place until he left a few hours or days later. (Truth be told, there were some days I'd almost hope to see him simply so I had an outlet for a really bad day.) After so long, I was shocked that he kept coming back. Don't get me wrong, I rock, and I know I do, I've probably forever damaged someone somewhere, but he should have long before forgotten my rockingness.

As my luck would have it, I was having a perfectly lovely day until I got home and discovered him here. I hadn't expected him even a little bit. Normally there'd be some kind of warning. Relentless phone calls, a number of drive bys, or a little cartoon bluebird singing his little song as I walked by only to look at me, laugh, and spit in my face. I hadn't fully put my bitch on. I had to gear up. I was coming up blank! How could that be happening?! In order to compose myself, I growled at him to put the dogs out. A few minutes later, I growled at him to let the dogs in.

Out of habit, and because I knew he never followed the rules, I followed him to the door so I could give the dogs their 'sit, stay, enter' commands. That's when genius struck like a furious bolt of lightning. I held the door and told Max, “Sit! Stay! Enter!” and closed the door. I told Scrappy, “Sit! Stay! Enter!” and I once again closed the door. The ex came to the door. I looked at him and said, “Sit!” He responded with a look that made me wish so badly that I'd had a camera and said something like “har har, I'm not a dog” and tried to pull the door open. I laughed because I can be a determined bitch when the mood strikes. I told him to sit again. He started to throw a tantrum and told me he wasn't sitting, he's not a dog. I laughed and told him only good dogs are allowed to enter my house, and that by my definition he was indeed a dog...did he not expect me to provide a roof over his head, food for his belly, and expect to run free and hump whatever stray mutt he could find? He began to sulk because he realized I was indeed serious. Then he got angry. Then, for the love of all that is holy, he sat! HE SAT! Like a dog! To get into my house. I never actually thought he'd listen. I figured he'd get pissed, storm off, and go stay with a friend like I would expect any person in that situation to do. I was beyond amazed. I let him in. And God help me, I loved it! I was happy, even with him in the same space as me. I couldn't have that...I knew I couldn't allow him to think I could be in a good mood while he was around so I went out. A few hours later, he called me. He told me he was leaving, that he couldn't believe I'd treat him like a dog. I told him that was better than he deserved.

Given all of the fighting, all of the arguments, and all of my pleading for him to just leave me alone, it was one simple word that did it. Sit. That was the last time he showed up at my house. It took me well over a year to stumble onto that little gem, and given my ability to stumble, I'm shocked it took so long, but sometimes that old cliché, better later than never, holds true.

I hope you all don't think less of me for sharing this with you-well, maybe not sharing it with you, but that I actually did it. Depending on the day, I convince myself I should have been medicated that day because I can be pretty hard on myself, or I can tell you to smile and enjoy it because it was one of the proudest moments of my life.

I needed him to be gone so I could get back to life and he finally was...gone. It was like a new person invaded me.

Take my advice people. If you are in a bad relationship, or trying to get back into a bad relationship and the other person starts to give you commands like you're a dog...save your dignity! Throw a very public fit, throw yourself on the ground and have a tantrum to rival that of a three year old, but do not sit like a dog. Trust me, if you've reached that point, there is no turning back and chances are you will completely wipe out any shred of respect that may have been left for you as a fellow human being. Of course, if you want to provide one less happiness to that person, go ahead and sit. I assure you, there will be days that person will savor it. :)

Urine for a Surprise

A few years ago, I broke down and allowed a friend of mine to set me up on a blind date. Yes, another blind date. You'd think I'd learn, but of course I don't. Although, to give myself some credit, I did learn to take my own car at this point.

I've debated telling this story simply because I never did tell my match making friend the true events of this day because she already felt bad enough about the basics about why it went wrong (I also didn't want to humiliate him in front of his friends, and I'm still not quite sure why.) I'm telling it now because enough time has passed that she very well may have forgotten what movie we did see and because she isn't online to read my blog nearly as often as she once was.

I don't know why I've spent so much time worrying about affecting the friendships of people who've made a complete ass out of themselves in front of me, but I have. I've learned to care a little less over the years; to a point, at least...I no longer feel obligated to continue to speak to a person when I'd rather gnaw my arm off just because they are friends with a friend of mine.

This event occurred a few years ago when a friend of mine wanted to hook me up with a 'very nice' guy. That should have been my clue, but I prefer to live my dating life with my head planted squarely up my ass, so I nodded like a dumbass, secured my blinders and played along.

My friend, “Judy”, called me one day to tell me about her friend “Fred”. She told me she'd love to hook me up with Fred because he was such a nice guy, and a hard worker, and has a great sense of family. I finally gave her the okay to give him my number and we started talking. He did seem to be a nice guy even if he was a little on the shy side. Even though I have a ridiculously shy side when it comes to meeting people, and even though I am very aware of it, AND even though I am quite confident about most of my actions (as long as those actions don't include walking, running, building, cutting, fixing, or moving in general), I now wonder what is wrong with them that makes them so shy. He made me this way.

As the conversations progressed, Fred finally asked me to dinner and the movies. Dinner ended up being pizza before the movie, but he let me choose the movie. I chose Live Free or Die Hard. (What can I say? I still love Bruce.) Everything seemed to go well during the pizza, and even the movie started well. He bought popcorn and drinks...we even had nice conversation until the movie started.

The movie started and that's when it went downhill. Quickly. I might have been able to understand the following events had I chosen a girly movie...you know, a sappy love story that would make everyone in the theater cry like little girls or even a romantic man-hating comedy, but I chose Die Hard for the love of god: action, explosions, gun fire, murder, and even a little computer geek thrown in for good measure! There is no explanation for what happened, for the scars that still remain on my eyes.

As the movie started, I became engrossed, and I thought he had too. Some time had passed and I started hearing animal noises coming from my side. A small part of me cringed and prepared for an attack as I wondered if it was something in the water around Wilkes Barre that makes men think this is appealing. I steeled myself and looked to the side and discovered he wasn't trying to make a move on me, oh no, nothing like like...he was fast asleep. In a movie theater. On our first date. Watching Die Hard.

After a brief internal struggle about what to do, I finally decided that, given my history, a man falling asleep and snoring during a movie ranks rather low on the bad date scale. Plus, I really wanted to see the movie. Screw it, I was sticking it out. Yay me! I won't let some stupid man ruin my good time! I was enjoying the movie. I even got to see a good portion of it before I reached for my drink and couldn't find it. And that's when it all went bad. I looked down to see just what had become of the water and discovered that, OH MY GOD, he dumped it on himself. Oh wait, there it is...silly me. OH MY GOD! He didn't dump it on himself! This grown 30something man just peed himself. While sleeping. In a theater. On our first date. Watching Die Hard. It was almost too much to wrap my head around. I might have been less shocked had he looked at me and asked 'Mommy, can you take me to pee, I'm afraid!'

I was mortified. Mortified! I also didn't know what to do. Should I wake him and point out that he peed himself? Should I call Judy? Would she know what to do? Should I go get an attendant? Should I go get him paper towels? How do I tell him I do like to date men who pee themselves? With all of these thoughts acting the part of a ping pong machine in my head, I finally decided my only option was to make myself gone. I moved a few rows back and ducked down. I sat at the end of the aisle on the other side...dammit...I really wanted to see the movie. I ran out of the theater before the credits while I could see that he was still sleeping soundly.

I came home and told my friend it was nice except that he fell asleep. I didn't expect to hear from him because I'd assumed that he would be too embarrassed to call. Yeah. This is me. Of course I was wrong.

Luckily, I never got the chance the chance to feel like I had to go out with him again.

Lesson here? Don't assume someone will react with the same level of embarrassment as any sane human when you most expect them to.  

People being People

 Generally, if I write about one of the more insane incidents in my life, I wait a few weeks, months or years so that time can get to work on healing my humiliation. I might also do it to protect the identity of the humiliator. I've decided to throw that out the window this time for a few reasons. First, it's so far beyond anything I could have imagined happening that the longer I keep it in my head the more crazy I begin to feel. Second, this about a person I've never met so I don't care so much if said person reads it and feels like a dumbass. Third, (maybe fourth or fifth even...I'm undecided about my level of angry belittling at this point) a small, cruel part of me hopes this person reads this and feels small and stupid.

 Recently, an old friend of mine found me on facebook. He sent an email to say hello, how ya been, let's catch up. I responded with my own short email basically saying, 'hey, long time, good to hear from you, give me a call sometime' and gave him my number. A few days later I received a text message saying, 'Hey, it's (person you email) maybe we can catch up on old times. I responded and conversations continued via text over a period of three weeks. There were a couple of live conversations during that same time and even though at a few points I'd wondered if he'd been drinking during some of the texted conversations because some of what we talked about was being repeated, I chopped it up to bad memory.

 I seriously need to stop giving people the benefit of the doubt.

 As time went on, I nearly decided that even though we were having nice conversations on the phone catching up on the goings-ons of the last decade, I was going to stop talking to him because the texts messages were getting more and more offensive...which was very unlike the person I remembered him to be. Because of that, and because of the fact that I far too often give people the benefit of the doubt long after they deserve it, I kept talking. I was a smart ass, but I kept talking. For example, at one point, while we were texting about work, out of the blue he asked me if a certain part of my (often referred to in the form of an animal) anatomy was wet. I responded “sorry, no, I only have dogs.” I was shocked that the person I remembered had blatantly come out and asked such a thing in such vulgar terms. Make no mistake, I've had plenty of vulgar dirty people say even more vulgar dirty things, so the statement didn't shock me so much as the person it was coming from. I'd hoped that maybe there was some kind of sarcasm or humor or even an old inside joke I had forgotten and that it just didn't read well in text. But, no. When I had responded about my dogs, he actually took the time to reply to explain not only that that was not what he meant, he had also taken the time to detail what he did mean. I couldn't do much beyond laugh. It was shocked laughter, but I don't think I could have formed a logical thought that would have allowed anything but laughter. I ignored him, but a few hours later there was an itch at the back of my brain that I couldn't identify.

 I let a few days slip by without talking. Then he started popping up with normal conversation again. But he started calling me bizarre pet names. That itch came back. As with most things Michele, I gracelessly dodged all of them because I was so confused by it all. Without getting into even more gory details, I finally pieced together that it wasn't him I was texting. I called him at the number we had talked on a couple of times and started grilling him about the texts. It was then that he informed me he had never texted me. After initial disbelief, I realized that was what the itching at the back of my head was...somehow, some way, I knew it wasn't him I was chatting with. Label me stupid. Or gullible. Or whatever. But, finally I had understanding about why I'd wondered so frequently if he had recently fallen out of a 12 step program; and it made me want to kick myself for only referencing text messages indirectly thinking he understood what I was talking about. It also taught me that in the future if I am talking to a person on one number and texting on another that I should not assume it is because one is a land line and the other a cell phone.

 After a discussion with him and another discussion with a friend of mine, I called the number that had been texting me. As luck would have it, I got voice mail that had not yet been set up. I asked the friend to call. She got the same message. A few minutes later, I received a text from yet another number. It turned out he likes dipping himself into batshit crazy women impersonating adults while they break into his facebook account and pretend to be him for extended periods. Given the disturbing turns in the conversations, I assume this freak also has yet unleashed lesbian fetishes that she's barely able to control. Why wouldn't she find me?!? This crazy woman informed me she loves him, blah, blah, blah and she's sorry she's been texting me from her moms phone, and she'd like to talk to me because boohoo, her life sucks. I responded to tell her she was knocking on the wrong door to be looking for sympathy, that if she had issues with him, that she should have taken them up with him and not involved me. I believe I also called her a psycho bitch, that she should check her bizarre fetishes, and that it's a little scary she's allowed to be free in the real world. I told her that if these were the type of games she likes to play she deserves what she gets and that she should just accept her place in the world. I also asked her exactly what defect was in her brain that she thought this type of shit was okay. (Really there were a lot more words, and I was a lot more insulting, but the way I see it, I wasn't nearly insulting enough.) Sadly, had she handled this differently, say, called me up and said, 'who are you, am I wasting my time trying to get with him?', I could almost understand. Somehow, absolute lack of self worth is more tolerable than combining it with all out insanity.

 The crazy thing is that I'm not a very jealous person. I have never felt the need to snoop through someone else's belongings or accounts to see if they might be hiding something. I've never felt the need to pretend to be someone else to get information, and as piss poor as I feel about myself some days, I've never lacked a level of self esteem that allows me pine away for someone who I obviously can't stand who probably feels the same way about me. We are operating on two so completely different levels that I honestly struggle to wrap my head around this sort of insanity.

 It scares me. People like this running loose.

I mean, she's allowed to influence the mind of a child. Take a lesson from me kids. Don't play catch up by text with an old friend without first hearing that friends voice.

 And, out of curiosity, because she never answered me, what mental defect do you suppose a woman must have that would drive her to do something like this?

 And, is it wrong that there's a vengeful part of me that wants the world to know she isn't operating on all cylinders? Don't answer that. It just feels right. :)

Facebook Flirting

Occasionally, I'm relatively certain the universe has put me here as a lesson to others; how NOT to date, how NOT to walk, and how NOT to think clearly are perfect examples of what I mean. This week has been no exception to my 'do not do' list. It even added a new category for me -- how not to accept friend requests on Facebook.

 I understand that dating online is quite common, and even searching for a mate on a site like facebook is getting to be pretty common. In some cases, I can even understand why it would work. What I can't understand is how, even when I'm away from my computer and miles and miles away from a person sending a friend request, the crazy still seems to find me.

 Take, for example, the request I got from some guy in Hazleton a few months ago. (I'm going to try to reconstruct his message from memory, but my 3 year old niece constructs better sentences than he did, so it will be rough) His accompanying email read something to the effect 'am looking for girl of dreams. I live Hazelton and you are close. You look pretty. Do not drive but willing to learn for girl who likes parents.' I've since thought about him and wondered if I had accepted his friend request would I have had to like all parents??, my parents??, his??, and how does driving tie in to liking a planet full of parents? Dammit!! I do not like ALL parents! It would have never worked. That was plenty crazy for me I thought.

 I should always accept that if it can't get any crazier, in my world it can. And it did.

 This weekend I received a friend request from a nutjob who called me Miss Passion. I was so put off by those two words that the rest of the email didn't really sink in until I went back and re-read it today.

 It reads: "I do have that passion you so desire, you dream about, you wish you could find. I am a romantic, who believe in the art of touch, warm oil, cuddling and soft kisses. Am here un Pittston for the next 22 hours, staying at the beautiful Walmart? V Come cuddle the time away with a true romantic, who you aren't going to let go of, once he touches you. So are you spontaneous, are you going to find the love if your life???? Not it you stay home are you Come spend the night, you and I.... This is not a booty call my dear. I have no expectation of sex, Miss Passion. So this is not a sexual letter. Waiting for you to sneak under my covers" 

 Oh yes, it can always get crazier. I did not accept his request, which did not deter him from sending a couple of follow up emails asking if I was coming, then another saying giggle giggle, you'll never find what you don't know you need if you never leave your house.

 I finally responded to that to say "funny, but whether I know it or not, I feel safe assuming what I need isn't in a parking lot for 22 hours at a time calling walmart beautiful and perfect strangers miss passion, but good luck finding a mate by calling her 'chicken'".

 During a couple of conversations with friends today I decided two things. First, I'd really like to see this weirdo write a dating advice column. I'd like to see it gain popularity. I'd really like to wake up knowing there is going to be some kind of ludicrous advice for me to laugh at each day. Second, I wondered if there's a chance I could make money from my propensity for attracting the extreme oddities in life? I could offer a service! Do YOU need to know if you're date is a raving lunatic? Allow me a few moments, I will mete out any possible insanity to be found! This extraordinary service can be yours for the low, low price of (really, how do you put a price on knowing that your date isn't going to tie you up, cover you in corn syrup, and make you watch a Benny Hill festival all while dancing the tango with a teddy bear in his mother's old heels?!) This may just be my calling! So, who's looking for a sure fire way to be sure their potential mate shouldn't be in a straight jacket? :)