C is, without a doubt, the most impatient human I have ever encountered. Combined with her sense of entitlement, she has the ability to wear a person down to nothing within moments of not getting her way. She is relentless. She is also incredibly effective.
She wanted to grill and by ‘grill’ she meant she wanted me to grill. Where, you ask? At ‘her’ beach house, of course. It started around 2pm yesterday.
C: “You should text Sleeves and tell him you want to grill tonight.”
It wasn’t that I was necessarily opposed to the idea, I just wasn’t about to insert myself into his day.
C: “I miss my beach house!”
Me: “Yeah, well I miss his cock, but he’s going to need to take the lead on that one.”
7 minutes later…
C:”Sooooo grilling tonight?”
Me: “Nice try. What would you propose I say, ‘Hello. Hope you saved me some cock. Also, I’m gonna need the Traeger?'”
C: “Highest bidder, remember? We had a deal.”
At this point I know I’m fucked. She can go all night and I didn’t have the patience for the pouting phase. I sent him a screenshot of the conversation; mostly because I think I’m funny, but also because I didn’t want to sound like a psycho stalker. It’s important to note that I was in no way part of said ‘deal.’ I was mearly a pawn in her plan for summer Instagram domination.
S: “Saved some cock and the grill is free.”
It wasn’t the worst thing he could’ve said. PDX had gone home the day before and I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about the situation, but I kind of missed him. Off we went.
Due to weather, we opted for dinner instead and began the evening at a local bar. At this point I was still pretty irritated, but I am a grown-up and grown-ups act right in public. C on the other hand, spent a full 20 minutes pouting after PG’s refusal to compromise his top level military security clearance by elaborating on a classified mission. Yep. She’s a peach some days.
Now Sleeves is notorious for leaving his phone face up without a screen lock, and I am a girl. If a message comes through I’m not going to look the other way. Turn your phone over like ever other adult on Tinder.
When Tumblr Trophy #4 😘😘😘 messaged and he immediately responded, I got to test my ‘grown-ups in public’ theory. I’m pleased to report I am an adult after all. Did I listen to Eminem’s Puke on my way to the restaurant? Yes. Did I slip into ‘see you next Tuesday’ mode? No. That’s a win.
Feeling confident that I could keep my crazy in check, I invited myself to C’s beach house. Then, at about minute 7 of the 12 minute drive, my brain fell out.
I have created a full fledged PowerPoint presentation from the comfort of my toilet thanks to iOS. You cannot tell me that Apple doesn’t have the technology required to recall a text message.
I was sitting on his deck watching David Foster Wallace’s 2005 Kenyon commencement speech while freezing my ass off when it hit me. I am an asshole. I’m a selfish asshole who lacks the ability to interface appropriately where feelings are concerned. Instead of using my words like an adult,I took the easy way out. I had just sent the link to this site and stood horrified as he pressed the screen in slow motion. If I was going to avoid scrambling to my car in order to move two states away, I was going to need the ‘capital T truth’ stat.
Once I realized my purse was inside and I would have to pass through the living room to get to my car I decided to suck it up and face the music. Not only did I call him out on the fundamentals of him, but I was an asshole about his car. To be fair, everyone who owns an Audi is buried; they arrive from the factory $10K upside down with an SRS light on. There was nothing he could do. Except maybe not punch it and void every conceivable warranty, or just lease Vorsprung durch Technik and invest the monthly savings. Second thought, I’m still right.
It’s got to be strange to read about yourself, and super fucking strange when the person writing has only known you for 40-ish days and has a Master’s in Psychology from University of Google. The fact that this shit has been published to world wide web would’ve been enough for me to throat punch me before kicking me out of the house. Fortunately, no one reads my stuff and he knows it.
“I really do need to buy one of those silverware things.” We talked for a long time and I think we both came away with a different perspective. He has offered to let me interview him and I think I will. I think I will also continue to allow him to practice his exquisite knot work, provided he invest in a cutlery tray.