“The Guy Who Dumped Me is Texting Me” #9

Posted on February 3, 2011


So, sometime before I got fired from my bullshit day job, I met this guy who was unlike any I had ever dated before.  He was kind, smart, almost a bit nerdy (which I thought was a good thing, since I’d always had a penchant for assholes), and very tall.  Things started slow, but before you knew it, I was enthralled with his inner character.  His integrity.  And most of all, how into me he was.  I swear I could see our future ahead of us; the wedding, the honeymoon, him, me and Vito all living happily under one roof.  Then, out of the blue, he tells me he’s been thinking about this for a while, and I’m just not the woman he wants to marry, so we shouldn’t waste time dating now.  I was devastated.  But, like any person who tries to pick themselves up from off the floor and get on with life, I cried and then quickly tried to move on.

So, here I am, Mallomar crumbs in my teeth, permanent sweatpants on, Miss Piggy sheets below, staring at the picture of my big permed hair from ’87, and thinking about how much I love the words “coup d’etat,” when my phone vibrates (which is a real “coup d’etat” since I haven’t paid my bill).  I glance at the name.  I’m paralyzed.  It’s him.

Fuck.  I know how these things go – I’ll want him back so badly, I’ll play the texting game and agree to see him, but in the end…find out he just wants to be friends and simply missed my adoration.  I’ve been a sucker before, and unfortunately, I can’t afford to go lower than ground level.  I’m staring at the text…  Shit!

I get up to go to see my dirtbag friend, Rob.  I grab Vito’s leash, but he doesn’t want to go.  He’s sitting determinedly by my Mom at the stove.  He’s swinging his paw in the air, the “high-five” trick I taught him , hoping my Mom will reward his talent with a whole chicken.  I tell her, “Please don’t feed him anything.  These dogs have very sensitive stomachs.  I’m serious.”  She tells me to be home for dinner.  That she has a special dessert planned:  Chips Ahoy cookies.

I’m walking down the Suffolk County, Long Island street, tears forming icicles down my face.  I want so badly not to think of him.  Damn cell phones.  If someone else isn’t fucking you with their loud conversation on them, then a heartbreaking ex is texting you on them.

I get to Rob’s place.  We hang out in his room.  He puts on records, yes records, and music fills the room.  Siouxsie and the Banshees “Fear,” Sisters of Mercy “Floorshow,” The Mission UK “Wasteland.”  He plays Billy Idol, “White Wedding,” and I start banging on his drum set, while screaming at the top of my lungs, tears coming down my eyes.  The thought of ‘wedding,’ and how I’ll probably never have one makes me scream, pound my feet, and sing it out.  Back to Siouxsie.  “I am the passenger…and I ride and I ride…” I just sit next to him as we sing along.  This is the music that got me through my high school years.  My heart swells for it.

Sometimes in the confusion of the present, we find comfort in the past.  Who would’ve thought that by going back to the place I once called “hell,” I would find such preciousness in simple human relationships.  Rob, my Dad, my Mom.  In each of them there is a love for me.  And, right now, I need it more than anything in the world.