Friday, January 14, 2005

And the countdown begins...

So, when I got to the Moose, Fucktard was the only other person there that I knew besides the bartenders. I sat down next to him, and got a beer, and the evening began as it should.

On the way home, I'd called my friend Melinda to ask her to come out. Her boyfriend has been out of town on a snowmobiling trip for the past week or so, so we've been spending time together at the bar without him. Dave...um, I mean Fucktard...has been happy with that, because I really think he likes and respects Melinda and the relationship she has with her boyfriend. Plus, he likes that we girls talk when sports are on, so he can focus on the game. Of course, I love talking with Melinda, and keeping her clued in on what's been going on between me and Fucktard, so when she walked in tonight, there was an uproar from both myself and Fucktard. It was nice to see her.

Anyway, blah, blah, blah...Fucktard was chatting with some other people. I slipped in at one point when I thought he was getting ready to leave and asked him if he could bring the vodka I'd left in his freezer tomorrow when he comes down to watch the games. I told him that I felt I'd probably need it this weekend, and it's done being where it is, so I'd like it back. He made some comment about me saying it was done being where it is, but agreed that he'd bring it down. (We'll have to see if he remembers to do so...) Anyway, I was being very nonchalant, and was actually just having a great time chatting with my bartender friends and Melinda, and even Dave. I mean Fucktard. (That's just hard to get used to...I don't know why. Give me a couple days...)

Dave finally asked me, "So what was it that [Boobsicle] said to you last night that got you so upset?" I looked at him with an amazed look on my face, and then I sighed, and tried to figure out what I was going to say. I had wanted to tell him that I didn't want to talk about it, but he was seemingly genuinely clueless. (I know, I know...I'm a dope. Anyway....) So I told him that I think she's a complete asshole, and I was irritated to hear her say, "I hadn't planned on staying over..." And then I told him it made me want to throw up when I heard her say that. He replied, "But we didn't sleep together, if that's what you're worried about!" I told him he could do whatever he wanted. She grossed me out, and hearing her talk about staying at his house had pissed me off, end of story. He said, "Alright..." and then he stopped talking about it. (He had also said that she called him asking him if he needed a manicure, because she was strapped for cash, and could use the money. He then told me that when she showed up, she was drunk, and it didn't seem safe for her to drive home. I think he was trying to justify the situation. He's not doing it right, though. If he wants to make things up to me, he needs to apologize outright, give me flowers, and ask me to dinner. At the very least. God, he's just such an idiot! Does he think I was born yesterday? Goddammit!)

OMG!! What a story! I mean, she was fine enough to get over to your house in the first place, Fucktard! Why not let her go home after spending an hour or two working on your "nails". (Although it is very clear that he's had them done since I saw him last. They looked lovely.)

I don't know what to believe. She's a druggie bitch that doesn't have her life together at 45 (although she says she's only 39...yeah, right!), and he's being a dick to me on a weekly basis for no reason, has this chick over at his house conveniently on a night that he expressed that he thought I wasn't attracted to him, and then leaves her alone with me the next night, knowing that she'd spill the beans and I'd find out about their little rendevous. Which one of them is being the bigger asshat? I could give a flying shit about her, really. She's not a very admirable person overall. My relationship with Fucktard thus far leads me a different direction, however. He's obviously trying to make it all ok again. Manipulation galore...

But I could give a flying shit. I ate a yummy dinner, had a few drinks, and am home watching the Alias I recorded the other night before I hit my bed. And boy, I'm a-gonna hit it hard...

Keep tuned. There'll be more tomorrow, I'm sure...

2 comments:

Mark said...

For some time I've been tempted to come over just to watch the show. Have a beer or three in some quiet corner and observe. Though it would be nice to have someone to hang out with in case there is no show.

lyn said...

dude. he's clueless. but i don't know...it's kinda fun even if it's infuriating, huh?