As I lay in the crosswalk blinking at the stars in the dark
black sky above my head, I realized that walking home would be more difficult
than I thought. The fact I was wearing a
loin cloth and a Viking helmet sensibly accented with black Chuck Taylors would
probably not win the affections of the local law enforcement community. Ohio, while somewhat liberal, still frowned
on drunken Vikings sprawled out in the crosswalk of four lane roadways. With all the focus and balance I could
muster, I righted myself and managed to make it the rest of the way across the
street and towards my home.
The evening had started with much promise. I was receiving an award for professionalism
in Radio, so naturally I wanted to display my respect for this honor by wearing
a costume and pretending to have misunderstood the invitation. “What?
This isn’t a costume party? Oh,
imagine my embarrassment…” I truly didn’t
give a fuck, and thought if I had seen someone else do the same thing, I would
be wildly entertained. Plus, how often
do you get to speak to your peers with an exposed nipple if
you aren’t in the adult entertainment industry?
I had a plan to get together with my then girlfriend after
the event. Our relationship was rather
turbulent with many young adult dramas playing out on a regular basis. The fact that I was a completely self
involved unpredictable wild card certainly didn’t help matters. I did not have that crystal clear vision of
myself at that time, and instead focused on destructive and self destructive behavior
while in search of a good time. I could
be a lot of fun. Or not. It sort of depended on what day you got me.
Today, I made a phone call to Chops McClintock of the Krank
Daddies, who may be using the last micro cassette answering machine in the Western
Hemisphere. The reason I mention this is
it reminded me of the very same answering machine that my then girlfriend used
at the time. While I waited to leave a
message for Chops I heard the familiar “beep-beep-beep” as the machine counted
off the previous messages before you would be able to leave yours. I hadn’t heard that sound in years and the
memory all came back to me.
Let’s go back to the radio event. I had decided to drink martinis. This was extremely stupid as I never drank
one before, but thought it would look ridiculous drinking a martini in a Viking
outfit. (It did.) The martinis packed a wallop, and I headed
off to a payphone to call my girlfriend to touch base. I had been insanely jealous of what I
perceived to be her having a secret relationship with another guy that “was
just a good friend”. In my experience
any man that “is just a good friend” with an attractive woman is “just a good
friend” until he can put his wiener in her.
The other option is the woman views this suitor as potential future
boyfriend material, and is keeping him in the “friend zone” until she decides to
rotate him in. Either way, this
relationship wasn’t good for me. At all. Yet I was assured that they were just good
friends.
I now know what it means to be in love. Real love is rare and precious. You may only get one shot at it in a
lifetime. While I would swear at the
time I was in love with this woman, I can now confidently say I was “sickly
obsessed” instead. There was a real desperate
darkness to the whole relationship. There probably needed to be an intervention. I still believe to this day that she may have
been some sort of demon sent to destroy me.
It’s hard to believe she is probably a good Mom in a subdivision somewhere
today as me playing the role of a forgettable bullet she dodged in her
twenties. I have no idea what she saw in
me, and that was probably the main issue.
Both of us knew this would be a spectacular flameout with me left in the
burning wreckage. It was just a question
of when…
So there I am, a buzzed up Viking calling her
apartment. When I got her machine it did
the strangest thing. You remember how
you used to be able to hit an access code and the machine would play your
messages back? I don’t know if I hit the
right code by accident or if the damn thing was just broken. Regardless, it began to play back a
conversation she had earlier with the “good friend”. In this conversation they discussed how they
couldn’t wait to get together and how they were totally keeping me in the
dark. Boy, did that get them
laughing. Ha, ha, ha! Then
there was discussion about some of the things he was going to do to her
physically. She purred into the phone.
This was rather disappointing.
Wait. I may have
understated the impact of hearing this.
I
was totally devastated. Completely
and totally devastated. My whole
world had collapsed. Mr. Funny Guy in
the Viking suit had a girlfriend that was right now doing unspeakable things to
a theater tech in an apartment no doubt decorated with Chianti bottles with
candles in them. He probably had a
Siamese cat and the soundtrack to “Rent”.
He probably took baths instead of showers. This was a cold slap in the face.
"I guess you aren’t so funny in that Viking outfit now are you Mr. Funny
Man?" I then proceeded to drink, thinking
this is what male role models did on TV and movies, so it was what Men did. This was, of course, a terrible idea. Getting totally shitfaced like that only
makes you go through the phases of grief.
Denial: “I must not
have heard that right. I probably dialed
the wrong number or something.” (tequila shot)
Anger: “I’m going to go over
there and kick that guy’s ass and fuck up her apartment. Play me for the fool? Fuck you!”
(tequila shot) Bargaining: “I
just need to talk to her. If I can just
get her alone, I’ll bet we can work it out.
It’s probably my fault. I need to
go see her!” (tequila shot) Depression:
“I love her man… and now she’s fucking Mr. Special Friend! I’ll never find someone like her again… Give me another shot. Nothing matters anymore.” (tequila shot)
Acceptance: “Fuck her
anyway. She always was a tramp. Which way is home?”
I haven’t thought about that in years. Even now the memory is horrible. It brings up many questions. While “What is true love?”, “Can you ever really
trust someone?”, and "Was our relationship always doomed to failure?" come to mind, the real question is this…
Why does Chops not have voice mail like
everyone else?
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