What have I done?

(Originally written on June 2, 2009)

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Long story short, I “quit” the Chickadee job today.  Remember that drug screen that they made me take on my first day?  Yea…well it came back positive for amphetamines because I take Vyvanse (a time-release Adderall, essentially).  All I had to do was call the doc with my prescription number to substantiate its presence in my system, but I decided simply not to do so.  So technically I got fired, but I really basically quit.  God, I hated that job so much.  Good riddance!

•     •     •     •     •

All throughout this ordeal with Gaston, I have confided in Scarlet and Martyr and sought their advice.  Scarlet has consistently told me from the very beginning – before the shit hit the fan, even – that I need to pull myself out of my “relationship” with Gaston and just move on.  He has also constantly reminded me of how Gaston treats me like shit and that I can do better.  On the other hand, Martyr, being the hopeless romantic idealist that she is, started off telling me that everything would be okay and Gaston and I would end up back together.  However, as Gaston has prolonged the situation, even Martyr has turned to telling me that I should just end it myself.

I called Gaston on my way home from work Thursday evening to see if he would tell me his decision over the phone.  He wouldn’t, of course, and really emphasized that he wanted to talk in person.  He told me that his decision was made, but that my reaction may change his mind.  That’s why it is so imperative that we have the discussion face-to-face.  This convinced me that he was going to end whatever it was between us, yet left me with a little bit of hope that I could salvage our relationship.  How do I need to react in order to change his mind? That question has been flooding my mind ever since then.  However, I’ve still been preparing myself for the “breakup” because I am almost positive that’s what he’s decided to do.

Well, Gaston did come back into town on Sunday, as he said he would, but it wasn’t until late in the evening.  I had been anxiously awaiting his call all day to tell me to come over and we would have our chat.  But I was tired and knew that I had to get up early in the morning and go to work.  I guess I figured that I had already waited so long that one more day couldn’t hurt.  I also didn’t want to bug him any more about it; he got really agitated on Thursday when I asked him to go ahead and tell me over the phone.  It was his responsibility to tell me whenever he was ready.  However, he didn’t even call me on Sunday night, not even to tell me to wait until Monday…

Monday passes (yesterday).  Still haven’t received a single word from Gaston.

I got home from work this afternoon and Gaston’s car was sitting in the parking lot.  That was it; I’d had it.  He said he was finally going to inform me of his decision on Sunday after a month of making me wait and here it’s Tuesday and he hasn’t even texted or called me!  I decided that I was just going to have to end it myself.  I went up to my apartment, fuming, and gathered all the stuff I had that was his:  a jacket, a t-shirt (both of which I made sure to spritz with my perfume), and two computer programs.  All the while, I was thinking about what Scarlet has been telling me to do for so long now.  I walked down to his apartment and knocked on his locked bedroom door.  Thankfully, Napoleon wasn’t there.  When Gaston opened the door and saw me standing there, he asked me,

What is this?

This is all your stuff that I had in my apartment.

Okay…

And regardless of whatever your decision is, this is mine:  I just can’t do this anymore.  I just can’t.  No one has ever made me feel so bad about myself and I have never been so belittled and disrespected by anyone in my entire life – let alone someone who I loved and who supposedly loved me.  I just can’t spend any more tears on you.

So…the part about me wanting to end our relationship:  it’s true, but it isn’t.  Obviously, I was high on anger and Scarlet’s and Martyr’s advice.  I’ve tried so hard to convince myself that it’s true.  I know it should be true and by no means do I enjoy the pain he’s caused me, but, for some reason, I’m still willing to suffer if he’ll just have me.

Well, this (as can be expected, I suppose) upset Gaston and he started pacing frantically.  Then I asked him,

So what was your decision?

Well it wasn’t that.

Then what was it?

You’re never going to know.

WHAT?!  After all this time, I believe I have the right to know.

Well get over it because you never will.  You’ve made the decision, so what I wanted doesn’t matter anymore.

When I asked him why he hadn’t contacted me since he’s been in town, he simply said, “Because it’s hard and it’s not exactly something that I was looking forward to doing.” For nearly three hours we proceeded to debate the decision.  And every time I tried to convince him that what I said wasn’t what I really wanted, he shot back with, “Well it came from somewhere,” or, “You said ‘regardless’ of what my decision was, so it really must be what you want,” or, “Well then why’d you say it?” even though I had explained myself 10 times.  During most of the discussion, we were cuddling on the sofa, holding hands, with me crying (go figure).  At one point, I desperately pleaded,

Remember in February after we decided to just be friends and then got drunk a few days later and I ended up staying the night with you?  We just can’t help but be together.  The next morning you cried and begged me to stay because you told me that you were afraid it was going to be the last time you ever got to lay with me. That happened for a reason; you felt that way for a reason and I refuse to believe that you just don’t feel that way anymore.

The discussion ended with Gaston telling me that no (new) decision would be reached tonight, that we would pick it back up tomorrow and that he would take my explanation(s) into consideration.  Again, the outlook is grim, yet I’m still holding on to that little glimmer of hope.  What have I done?

Takeoff

(Originally written on May 17, 2009)

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I have officially decided (again) that I am getting rid of Gaston and that crowd of friends for good.  I still haven’t heard anything from Gaston; this is the third day without any contact whatsoever between us.  I know this is the right thing to do – I mean, he (supposedly) doesn’t even have time to think about “us” and told me, “I’m not sure you’re worth it.”

I am currently leaving to go to California for a series of interviews with Bacchus.  There is a couple sitting next to me on the plane cuddling really sweetly and they’re making me lovesick.  I know (somewhere inside me) I don’t want to be with Gaston, but I do still yearn for a relationship.  I think that’s why I’ve waited on him for so long.  BUT I know that I just can’t do that anymore and I just need to “purge” myself of him (as Scarlet put it).  I’ve actually stopped hanging out with all of them these past three days – Napoleon, Leto, Yuengling, everyone.  Both Scarlet and Mario agree that it’s what’s best.

I know I’m gonna look back at the time I’ve spent with them and regret it, but it really does hurt to knowingly purge them when I have practically no one else to be around and hang out with.  Perhaps that’s more the reason to move somewhere far, far away – if for nothing else (besides a job, obviously) than to get away from the constant reminder of this catastrophe.

There is a surprising number of Europeans on this flight…

GOD! I wish they would stop kissing!

Cinco De Mayo

(Originally written on May 5, 2009)

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I am currently sitting in my apartment playing Power Hour by myself with Kings of Leon songs.  Earlier this evening, I went out with Scarlet to Los Compadres for multiple margaritas.  Regrettably, Gaston was supposed to go with me.  Obviously, that didn’t happen.

Gaston just revealed to me on Sunday that he, too, knew the web address of my blog and had read it.  There has been nothing but disaster since then.  I just don’t understand, even now, why he waited over a week to tell me about it – especially since he was embarrassed by it and knew that our other friends had been reading it (even though I had no clue).  Apparently, whenever I’m not at Polly’s, they all call him “Gaston” now – including the employees.

I mean, I fully understand his being upset, but WHY WAIT TO TELL ME?!  Not just that, but he had been exceptionally caring and sweet to me during that period leading up to the disastrous revelation.  I mean, he was kissing me in public, holding my hand, dancing with me, cuddling, and sleeping with me – all things that he doesn’t normally do, let alone, instigate.  How can you do those things with someone when you’re fuming inside with anger at them?

Earlier today, he said that he would definitely consider giving me a second chance.  Then, later on (about three or four hours later), he blew up:  he had previously promised that he would go to Los Compadres with me since Teddy had been asking to meet him; he was waiting on Whitie to call him to take him to get a prescription filled (Whitie is legally blind, as many albinos are, and therefore can’t drive); there was an MMR Cinco de Mayo party going on starting at 3pm that I missed because I was waiting on the call from Gaston telling me that he was ready to go.  I knew another party that he was going to started at 8pm, so at 7pm I decided to come down and ask him about going to Los Compadres since he hadn’t answered any of my calls or texts; I was locked out and he told me he’d come let me in in a minute.  I waited for 15 minutes before going up to my apt to get my “break-in” card.  Even after that, he made me wait a few minutes outside of his locked bedroom door before opening it.

Turns out that he was just locked in his room playing a computer game the whole time.  That’s why I was kept waiting outside, being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

I then asked him if he still wanted to go to Los Compadres with me since it was already 7:30pm and I, with the information he had previously provided me with, knew that he had the birthday party to go to at 8pm.

As I said earlier, he was receptive to my request for a second chance.   At this point, however, he was pissed-off that at 7:30pm he hadn’t realized that he had let the day pass him by.  Thus, I assumed that his anger was due to these inconvenient circumstances (besides his obvious preexisting frustration with me, of course).  Then he realized that he didn’t have a new razor head and “had to” shave with a dull one.  I offered to go grab a new one from my apartment (which would have taken all of 30 seconds…), but he insisted on using his dull one.  Why do that?

So I sat there and we had regular conversation while he was shaving.  Then he checked his phone and finally got my texts about being eaten alive by mosquitoes.  He proceeds to scold me, “You shouldn’t have let them bite you.”  Okay…there was a swarm of probably 20 of them, and you can’t feel it while they’re biting you, only afterwards when you itch.  I had three large welts on my back (I was wearing a floor-length, strapless dress), two on my right arm, and one on my left shoulder.  He then EXPLODED and ensued yelling at me for scratching the bites, “You’re not supposed to scratch them!  They’re going to get infected!”

I know that you aren’t supposed to scratch them, but in all my life, I have been bitten by thousands of mosquitoes (they love me for some reason) and I have always scratched my bites and never once has one of them gotten infected.

In a fit of rage, he left the apartment and I followed him out.  I mentioned that the whole going-to-his-friend’s-birthday-party-tonight thing was probably “more important” than accompanying me to Los Compadres. Then he ERUPTED and started speed-walking to his car, not allowing me to even explain myself:  a couple of weeks ago, he was supposed to go to her dance recital, but he didn’t go because he was hung-over and we were just chilling on the sofa, watching TV.  Finally, I was able to get a word in and explain this, upon which he spat back, “Well I wonder what I was doing instead,” and then furiously drove off, causing my major crisis of the day.

•     •     •     •     •

Yuengling wants to be there for me, but he is the cause of this whole thing in the first place.  I mean, he told Gaston about the time he (Yuengling) kissed me when I was sloshed (after which, I told him that it wasn’t okay) without ever even telling me he felt that was necessary or that he was going to do it.  Then, Napoleon told Gaston that he had seen Yuengling leaving my apartment at 8am one morning.  Okay – there was one time that we accidentally had passed out on my sofa while watching An American Tail:  Fivel Goes West after an evening at Polly’s.  Yuengling and I both agree (conflicting Napoleon’s account) that we woke up by around 4:30am and he definitely left by 5am.

•     •     •     •     •

I am now just deciding to avoid Gaston at all costs.  I have essentially lost almost – no, all – of my friends due to this and have no one other than Angel and Scarlet to turn to for advice.

•     •     •     •     •

I honestly love him.  I know a million people can tell me that I don’t deserve the way he treats me; BUT I also know that a million people would never do to him the disservice that I did by posting our personal interactions publically over the internet.

I have royally fucked myself over.

Vino + Sex = Success!

(Originally written on April 15, 2009)

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Yesterday I had a brief “interview” with the VP of sales of the winery in Cali (we will from here-on-out call it Bacchus, in honor of the Greek god of wine).  After speaking with him last week, I was left with the impression that he wanted to just see where I may best fit in with the company.  By the way, this dude was Beast’s boss for five years.

Monday was Beast’s and Martyr’s 24^th wedding anniversary.  I had called each of them at some point during the day to give my best wishes as well as ask a few questions about taxes (this year was my first time filing) and my interview/meeting.  Neither of them answered my calls throughout the course of the entire day and didn’t call me back.  Until…they were at a wine bar down the street from my apartment and asked me to join them for a drink, so I went.

So…Beast gave Martyr a fox-fur coat for their anniversary.  I’m not sure exactly how much it will be put to use in the southeast, but that’s cool.

Anyways, at this conjuncture the Bacchus interview came into conversation.  I told Beast that I was under the impression that the meeting was going to be less like a standard interview and more the VP informing me about the company and finding out where I may best fit in (as mentioned earlier).  He fired back with, “You can’t assume anything!  You better go in there prepared, he’s going to ask you [A, B, C, …],” blah, blah, blah.

After this lecture-conversation, I went back home and better prepared myself with Mintel reports for Bacchus as well as the wine industry as a whole.  I also crammed in some additional research on the Bacchus brands and products – just to be sure that I cover all of my bases.

As it turns out, I drove an hour (one way) just for what turned out to be a 30-minute get-to-know-you session.  Thus, only one-fifth of my two-and-a-half hour venture was actually spent “interviewing”.  However futile this may have been, it was a success nonetheless.  And I had also gotten a lot of my work done earlier in the day (which, little did I know, ended up being useless after my client project meeting that took place earlier today).

This called for celebration!

During my drive home, I noticed that Gaston had twittered that he was bored and looking for something to do.  So I called him, informed him that I was on my way home from a successful “interview”, and asked if he would accompany me to Polly’s for a celebratory drink or two (to which he agreed to join me).

Once I finally got back to the apartment (looking all spiffy in my three piece suit), I walked into Gaston’s apartment about to ask if he was ready to go…and there’s Slutty McSlutterson on the sofa.  Great.  It took seemingly forever for her to leave, but eventually we made it to Polly’s while Napoleon walked there to meet us in order to get in his exercise for the day.  Gaston pretty much ignored me once we got there, what a surprise, everything was as usual.

Okay, I hope that the person who invented pantyhose is serving eternal damnation in Hell.  Before leaving to my interview yesterday morning, a miniscule snag on one of my fingernails caused a run in my pantyhose at my ankle.  Thankfully, I had another pair – but not for long!  The second pair met their demise by means of my barstool.  This is always annoying, let alone with the additions of the struggle of getting them on and their constant discomfort.

Back to what I was saying, we ended up leaving Polly’s by 8pm so that Napoleon could get back to catch American Idol.  I made pasta for dinner and Gaston bitched that I never cooked for him, yet he chose not to eat any of it…  Later, Whitey came over and he, Gaston, and I played drinking games:  two rounds of Fuck the Dealer and one game of Circle of Death.

After all of this, I was pretty tired and ready for bed, wary of the long day that lay ahead of me.  Gaston and Whitey, on the other hand, wanted to go out and were trying to convince me to join them.  Gaston pleaded with me:

Just one hour.  Please?  I’ll do anything.

If I go out for just one hour, you have to stop this whole not-kissing thing.

Okay.

And we had ourselves a deal!

So after one hour we headed back home and Gaston and I had amazing, carnal sex.  I honestly don’t know how else to possibly better describe it, but it was incredible.  It had come out during Circle of Death:  being the only girl playing, I pulled out “Never have I ever gone down on a girl.”  Gaston lowered his finger.  This wouldn’t be such a surprise if he had ever done so to me, but he never has.  I questioned him and he assured me that, yes indeed, he has (although, not to me, of course).  I just assumed he was one of those guys that never did that because it grossed him out, and it never really bothered me that much because it has never really done it for me, if you will.  So last night, that was a first.  He insisted on doing it to disprove my assumption, and he did a (surprisingly) damn good job.

AND THEN we cuddled all night – at least, every time that I woke up we were cuddling.  He never does that.  When it was time for me to get up and get ready for class, he held me tighter, telling me, “Nope, you’re all mine.”

Maybe things between us are starting to get back to the way they were…

All Work and No Play…

(Originally written on April 6, 2009)

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Last night, Gaston got back from Miami.  I had no idea when to expect him to be back, I was at Beast’s and Martyr’s house (who are officially working on getting back together, by the way) for Ursula’s 21^st birthday.  While there, Ursula, Chip, and Dale revealed that they had all seen Fast and Furious over the course of the weekend and that it was awesome.  Having still not heard anything from Gaston since Wednesday, I decided that it was time to stop anticipating and just initiate contact myself (just like I usually do).  So, I texted him “Will you go with me to see Fast and Furious on Tuesday?  I’ll pay because I’ve got tons of movie gift certificates” (the certificates were part of Martyr’s Valentine’s Day gift to me – along with a tub of gumballs, a card, and a bottle of wine).  I actually haven’t even seen a movie in theaters since Role Models, which was mine and Gaston’s first date (which we went to with a few friends and he referred to as a “pseudo-date”).

Anyways, he ended up immediately calling me back saying, “I was just about to call you!  Are you at trivia?”  I told him where I was and why and asked him what his response was to my text.  He didn’t actually read it, so I asked him about Tuesday and he confirmed.  I hope he holds to that…

Before getting off the phone, I told him to call me after trivia (which he was heading to, late) because I wanted to see him and hear about his weekend.  That call ended at 8:30pm.  I got home from Ursula’s 21^st birthday celebration around 11pm.  Having not heard back from him, I texted him saying I was home, to which he replied “headed home”.  After waiting 20 minutes (when it only takes approximately five minutes to get to the apartment from trivia), I told him (via text) that I should instead go to bed since I had a long day ahead of me.

So you aren’t coming down?

Are you even home?

I told you I was.

NO, he told me he was headed home.  Whatever.  Now it was 11:30pm and I decided to just come down because I didn’t feel like getting into it over petty technicalities.  He was seated at their dining table (which he never does – he’s always either on the sofa or in his bed, both of which lead to cuddling opportunities).  I was originally playing up my tiredness in hopes we’d relocate (I sat completely opposite of him across the table – still hesitant as to how upset he remained over the whole pregnancy joke thing).

I asked him how his weekend was.

It was fun.

That’s all he said!  After getting upset that I was going to go to bed instead of come down to see him, that was IT!

I continued for approximately 10 minutes to pretend to pass out in my chair.  I then said, “Well can I go up to bed if all you have to say about the past four days is that they were ‘fun’”…Another five minutes go by, still no response.  Finally, he simply says, “I don’t care.  Go to bed.”

What an aggravating son-of-a-bitch!  I proceeded to go to bed.

•     •     •     •     •

As early of a start as I had this morning, I hopelessly hope my evening arrives just as soon.  After my first class, I had a pointless, unproductive, unnecessarily long group project meeting.  Then, I went to Polly’s to study for a pointless test that I have tomorrow for a pointless class.

While there, however, I did get a recruitment call from a company that I hadn’t even applied to.  I’m not too interested in relocating to where their headquarters are, but at this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.

Anyways, from there I went to another pointless class (which I would have skipped, but Scarlet told me that I’ve been doing that too much lately).  Then, I had another painfully god-awful seminar.  I WAS originally planning on skipping out on the social hour following the presentation, BUT my program mentor came, so I was essentially obligated to go.

Then Beast called and lectured at me for half-an-hour about finding a job.  He made me immediately draft a particular cover letter and e-mail it to him with my resume.

Ugh!

Now I have to pick back up my studying for that test tomorrow.  When does all this fun stop?

When It Rains, It Pours

(Originally written on March 24, 2009)

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The past few days have been a bit, well, out-of-whack for me.  In a bad way.

Usually, I play trivia on Sunday nights with Gaston, Napoleon, Rowdy, and crew.  This Sunday, though, I skipped it because I was studying for the two tests I was supposed to have had yesterday.  Yesterday morning, I woke up around 4:50am in order to get some (okay, maybe a lot) last minute cramming in.  Scarlet picked me up because Flower-Child, the scatter-brained classmate that normally takes me to class, called to tell me she couldn’t take me – but it was okay because I got that all worked out.  After parking and grabbing a campus paper (I strictly pick one up every day for the puzzles:  one crossword and one Sudoku), a woman from the Marketing Department stopped us to let us know that the professor was having heart issues and that our tests were postponed until Wednesday (tomorrow).  We were in disbelief.  Don’t get me wrong, I hope the prof is doing well health-wise, but that wasn’t exactly the best way to start off the week.

I was cracked out on coffee and had absolutely nothing to do.  I was in the vicinity of Polly’s and decided to head there, even though it was only 10am at this point and figured they weren’t open yet.  They weren’t, but they were there prepping for opening for the day and they let me in to just chill.

I hung out there until Gaston swung by and picked me up to watch 24 (I don’t really watch any TV show regularly, but he does, and 24 and American Idol are his picks).   Once it was over, we finally had sex for the first time in nearly two weeks – needless to say, it was very, um…brief.

By the way, I’m an insomniac and I normally take sleeping pills before bed at night in order to remain holding on to my sanity.  However, I didn’t feel like running up to my apartment to get them and figured I might be okay since I had been awake since 4:50am and had been drinking all day.  Boy was I wrong!  Of course, by the time I noticed this, it was too late.  And it doesn’t help that Gaston has to have the TV on in order to fall asleep, which keeps me alert and awake, of course.  This has happened before, but he specifically let me know last night before we went to bed that he didn’t feel like cuddling – to which I obliged.  So I was laying there, flipping from being too hot to too cold and back again, and feeling like a creeper just laying there staring at him…

Eventually (around 4:30am), I decided I’d just go upstairs and hop in my own bed.  I drifted in (barely) and out of sleep for about two hours when construction work started (yes, at 6:30am!) in the lot right outside my bedroom window.  By 8:30m, which is when I was originally intending on waking up, I had a monstrous migraine.

At this point, I was already contemplating skipping class.  BUT, I then decide to roll over and check my BlackBerry for e-mails.  Sure enough, the one message awaiting me is from the company I had a second interview with about two weeks ago, “[regretting] to inform [me] that [they] have decided not to extend an offer of employment at this time.”  It was confirmed:  class was out.

Two minutes later, I receive a call from Gaston, who is never up that early.  His Jeep has been in the shop, so he’s been driving his mom’s Cadillac…which wouldn’t start.  Normally, this may not have been that big of a deal, but he has to drive to the state capitol for a job interview on Thursday.  He needed me to jump him off.  Well, my jumper cables are really short and Gaston’s car was sandwiched between two others, one of which belongs to Napoleon (and the only car on that side of the Caddy).  So Gaston goes in, gets Napoleon’s keys, moves his car, and then I pull up to get everything set up.  The battery was completely dead.

Gaston insisted that he was going to go get the battery checked out right then and asked if he could borrow my car.  Letting him drive it with me in it is one thing, but I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of just letting him take my car.  If anything were to happen, Beast and Martyr would have my head!  I have a terrible driving record (with outrageous insurance that they currently pay) and so does Gaston, and my parents are aware of it – he has shared with them the story of when he took a turn going 90 mph and collided with a house, knocking it off of its foundation!

Anyways, we get to Pep Boys and, even though it’s pretty much guaranteed that the battery is dead, Gaston has them check it just to be sure.  I had originally gone in with him, but the smell was going to cause me to either vomit, pass out, or both (migraine). So I waited in the car for about 15 minutes, when he comes out to tell me the test is going to take 45 minutes.  I was hungry, so we went down the street to Chick-Fil-A for some breakfast.

With only 20 minutes to go and almost immediately after we finished eating, we each receive a text from Napoleon asking if one of us had his keys.  Gaston goes, “We’ve got to take Napoleon his keys.  Hurry, because we need to be back at Pep Boys in 20 minutes!”  My first response being, “Does he actually need them right now?  Or does he just want to know where they are?”  This apparently didn’t matter, and we start driving back to the apartment.  Napoleon is gone when we get there – turns out he just needed to go to campus to get a transcript (which didn’t require having his keys).

Once we finally get back to Pep Boys, it is confirmed that the battery is dead.  But they don’t carry it, so we still had to find it somewhere else.  Ultimately, we happenstanced upon another car parts store down the street that, thankfully, carried the battery we needed.

The car still wouldn’t start after initially hooking it up.  So Gaston had to play mechanic for a little while.  Everything finally worked out and I was able to chill at noon.

What a day, huh?