6:57am. Two days after a group of friends went thermo-nuclear. Here I sit nursing Maker's Mark, Son House blasting from my stereo trying to make sense of whats happened. Things ain't like what they used to be, and this ain't the summer of love.
Fuck the neighbors.
There's a simple phrase I picked up from watching Babylon 5 that can be applied to most situations; understanding is a three-edged sword. Sometimes you think that you've got a pretty good grasp on a situation and its players. We think "Oh I've known him for just shy of 10 years" and consider ourselves a fairly good judge of character; no one has come to play Whitechapel with your house as the setting. Thank the gods it isn't the summer of 1888.
Your Side:
Supposedly you've been broken up for awhile now. Things haven't worked out between the two of you and try as you might it isn't working. She ignores what you say. Will talk your ear off for hours without letting you get in a word edge-wise. She has even driven you to play wack-a-mole with the wall studs. You really do love her but she drives you crazy and you just can't take it anymore. You would like to stay friends with her, to try and help her get her life together but that just isn't working. You're "over it".
At least that's what you've been telling all of us.
Their Side:
You've been "separated". It's been this way since you came home drunk that night. Combative and argumentative about him "threatening to change the locks for going out with your friends", you damned the world for the injustice directed at you. You cursed, you screamed, you swung. If it wasn't for Switzerland stopping him from making the call (-note, that would be me) you would have gone to jail that night. Even after your father came to help remove your belongings (most of 'em anyway) you still held on to the hope. This is just a phase; transient. He's not ready to get engaged and move the relationship to the next level. Time is all he needs, time to realize just what he's lost and then he'll be back. You still talk on the phone to this day and even with the occasional arguments you still tell each other "I love you" when getting off the phone.
The Truth:
man I've gotta slow down on this Makers or I won't finish the fucking page...Since she moved away to the... you've found quite a few ex-girlfriends on Myspace that for one reason or another you're wanting to start up communication with again (blame the whiskey for this sentence). She knows about your current myspace page (even though you've blocked her months ago) so you hatch a plan; create a
new account that she won't know about so you can talk to whomever, post your ex girlfriends on your top friends and generally have a good `ole digital time. You sent requests to your current friends, Switzerland included. Showing support for The Arts (boy that's a stretch) you sent a request to not just Switzerland itself, but it's Music page. Unfortunately that's where you've fucked up.
Around this time I came across Her page on Facebook. Flipside to everyone using their real names over there I suppose. She was known to me (this third person shit tried my last nerve) since before He did. Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick; I introduced the fuckers. That's not the prime comedy either. I was in the process of talking to her (hint hint, nudge nudge say no more!) when she hits me with the "I really like you but I think I like your friend more" cruise missile. In retrospect it wasn't that bad; she told me bluntly and honestly because she genuinely didn't want to hurt my feelings. I could've gone off, been an asshole and pulled the "I've been talking to you for X time, introduced you to him, how could you do this!?!" shit that most guys would have. I'm just not that kind of person; it takes two to tango and if she wants to try and get together with him go for it. He's been single for awhile so I did what a real friend should do; I pumped up his position in her eyes. I passed on compliments, told her how much of a good person he was, etc. In no short words I basically hooked `em up together. How's
that for neutrality, the UN can kiss my ass. Ok, tangent over. I love whiskey.
Around this time He removes me from his friends list. I didn't think anything of it at the time, he could have done it by mistake. Come to find out it was due to a picture I posted on my profile. He didn't like the fact the picture was me on his bike from almost the same angle as the one on
his profile. Oops? How am I supposed to know WHEN YOU REMOVE ME FROM YOUR PROFILE, MORON. It was either that or the fact She could see my profile and theoretically find His new profile through it. I'm not sure since the truth it somewhat fluid right now. Sorta like living on FOXNews. Rather than call me and say "hey motherfucker, get that shit off your page" he remained silent about it and stewed. As I've said he removed my
personal profile from his but
not the music account. The music account has a picture of me clear as fucking day, holding a mic and screaming into it. It's
pretty fucking obvious to whom that account belongs. The fact it's on my personal profile's top 8 should be another
little clue. It's through that account's friends list that She found out the truth; that He was feeding her a line. For how long, who knows or even fucking
cares at this point.
It's right around this time when She hits me with another cruise missile (DoD must've had a yard sale); He's been accusing me (for how long isn't sure) of using him, manipulating him and others. Stealing from him and worrying about that I
might be stealing from him (which is it?). I may be a fucking pirate that'll download his ass off but that's not theft; it's copyright infringement. Get it right motherfucker.
This is bullshit. This is more of the fucking "he said/she said" shit that I've been roped into the middle of with this SAME motherfucker in the past.
"Here, I'm going to put him on speakerphone so you can hear him say it yourself" She says.
O RLY?
Damned if she wasn't telling the truth. Without him knowing that I was in the car, quietly listening over speakerphone he unloaded it all; I'm trying to get with her (laugh motherfucker. My kryptonian name is now EL OH-EL), everything I've said is an utter lie in order to get on her good side and get in the pink. He also starts up about
everyone else he/we called friends. "Fuck him, fuck them, and fuck you" He said upon finding out she was hanging out with all of us trying to cheer up. I'm a Fucking Prick but I have a sense of honor (in the Ali Baba sense anyway) and a soft-spot for a crying betty, so sue me.
What absolutely slays is that I
haven't said shit about what he's been up to. Before all of this went down He and I were damned good friends. Well, I thought as much at the time. Aside from family I was one of the few people, probably the
only one he voiced a lot of his fears and worries to. I know shit that could destroy his personal and professional lives and still have enough in reserve to book a guest-spot on Jerry Springer. Even
after finding out about his audition for the next Batman movie I didn't tell her anything. Tears streaming down her face, begging, even pleading with me to tell her
anything; nada. All I could do was explain "if I tell you what he's told me, in confidence, then how do you know you can trust me? If I tell you half the shit he's told me; hell
any of it then I instantly make all of the bullshit he's said about me true. You would have no reason to believe me and my word instantly loses value."
I probably should be a bit more pissed off about this. Scratch that; I should be mad
period but I'm not. The entire experience hasn't really pissed me off that much. Yes, I was angry. Yes I wanted to call Him up and go off on his ass but I didn't. I've called him once since the shit hit the fan; to tell him that I still have his pipe (amongst other things) and that if he wanted it back to gimme a call. I also told him that "it isn't what was said, it's what
wasn't said". Always trying to play medic, patch the situation without regard for whom I'm helping. Medecins Sans Frontieres, fils de pute.
That was two days ago, left on his voicemail. I've yet to receive a reply. Current mood: Disappointment.
Yay alcohol.
