....because rape was better than leaving.
I know I can be an asshole at times, but putting these stories out may be a bit far, even for me. I've tried to extend the olive branch to this girl a couple times in the past, but to no avail. She is actually the first person to label me an asshole, so you can blame the last few years of my life on her. I’m not bitter or anything. I really don’t know if this is me bad-mouthing some troubled chick, or me exposing how completely stupid and blind I used to be. Oh well.
It all started when I was seventeen. It was a warmer than usual summer if I remember correctly. The trees were green, the birds were singing, and the sun was shining six days a week. Love was in the air, and I was choking on it.
I had already graduated from high school, but I had no car and I still had to live with my mother. The girl I was seeing had a car, but also still lived with her folks. Whenever we were broke and wanted to be together, we had to decide to either be at her parent's place or mine. It tended to be a 50-50 split on those decisions. For whatever reason, the drama always happened at my place.
No matter where we decided to hang out, we pretty much did the same thing every night. Our routine consisted of a little TV/movie watching until everyone went to bed, then we'd disappear into my or her bedroom and fuck like we just made the shit up. We had to do it on my bedroom floor when we were at my place, because my waterbed made too much noise. The squeaky floor defeated the purpose.
One particular night we went through the normal routine and, at midnight or so, I decided to call it a night. She wasn’t too happy about that. God forbid I be a little tired after being up since 5am and having to do it all again the next day. She refused to sympathize. I had to actually talk her into leaving and going home. While keeping my composure, I ushered her out the door. Silly me, I thought my night was over. I really should have known better.
This girl was more predictable than a nun's menstrual cycle. After staring at my cell phone (and a big one it was) for ten minutes, it rang. It was the girlfriend. She called not to tell me she made it home, but to say she’s still in the damn parking lot. Our conversation went something similar to this…
Me- Go hooooome
Her- Why did you kick me out?
Me- I’m really tired. Please go home.
Her- You always do this. Why do you always do this? You don’t love me. If you did, you would never kick me out. You just wanna fuck me.
Me- (sigh) Can we talk about this tomorrow? I know its cold out there. Go home and good night. (I hang up)
Why did I think that would be the end of it?
*ring ring*
Me- What?
Her- Come outside.
Me- No, it's cold. Go home.
Her- Come. Outside.
Me- Just talk to me on the phone until you get home.
Her- I'm taking off my clothes. If you don’t come out here right now, I’m gonna lay naked on the top of my car. I bet someone will come out here for me if you don’t. I bet you won’t even fucking care.
Me- You can’t be serious. You have an actual problem. You should really leave.
Her- Whatever. We’ll see what happens. (she hangs up)
I look out of my window and, sure enough, she was topless and proceeding to follow through on her promise. From where she was in the parking lot, she could have easily been seen by 72 different apartments. All of which consisting of either children (including my little brothers), or married couples, or random perverts, or anyone that just wanted some fresh air, or a combination of. All they had to do is glance outside to see an eighteen year old girl/woman, damn-near naked, laying on top of an old hatchback.
Fuck. Me.
I run out there and make every fake apology I can think of. I tell her that I’m a bad boyfriend. I tell her that I love her. I tell her blah blah blah, blah blah, blah blah. I tell her to 'PUT YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES ON!!!!' After freezing outside for 45 minutes (freezing may be an exaggeration, but it was cold), she finally leaves. I wouldn't be surprised if she was giggling uncontrollably while she was driving off.
Fucking Psycho.
This wasn't the first incident. There were some small ones prior to this, but nothing quite like this.
”I’m just calling to let you know I made it home ok. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, baby. I love you.”

2 comments:
i just want to tell u me and my friend stumbled on ur blog and wow it kept us entertained...it sux that itr actually happened to u thooo sry man
hey i couldnt find any way to contact you, but I have a band called The Psychoe Ex-Girlfriend Projecto, (coincidentally formed after me and my best friend both went through breakups which closely reflect yours) and we just wanted to know if you could link our page or anything. myspace.com/psychoexgirlfriendprojecto
thx a lot, and if you can convince her that you're a suicidal closet homosexual, i've found that that usually shuts her up. and if you have nude pictures of her and threaten to poost one on the web every day that she calls you, she'll only call once a week. lol.
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