Monday, March 14, 2011

I'm Your RagDoll

Abe never came back.

I am sure all of you heard that Thursday there was a devastating tsunami in Japan. I happened to be on Facebook at the time and was able to watch video footage of people trying to out drive the wave only to drown in the mouth of the ocean seconds later. The internet is amazing, I saw the footage 25 minutes after it happened from the other side of the Earth.

Shortly afterward, warnings were sent to Hawaii and the Pacific coastline for tsunami aftermath. Hawaii would be hit around 6am and the pacific coast around 8:30am. I was on-line with Abe at the time and worried.

Abe: you are getting to worked up
  plan on not sleeping again tonight?
 me: listen baby
  you are the only one that gets me ok
  I can't lose you
12:32 AM Abe: Im not going to drown in the evening ok
 me: I just cant lose you
 Abe: ok
 me: protect yourself
  be a step ahead
  be aware and awake
12:33 AM have a full tank of gas
 Abe: That would be the day--
  the day I actually get a good freelance job-- a fucking wave hits the coast
 me: hahaha
 Abe: that would be the story of my life
  me: God damn it Abe
  Official Tsunami watch for the west coast. San Francisco 8am, Santa Barbara 8:15am, San Pedro 8:30am, La Jolla 8:40am
 Abe: Im not freaking out
 me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 Abe: stop it!
 me: I just dont know why the fuck you are staying down there when you could be here with me
  then meet the guy tomorrow
  after the tsunami
  if its not big deal
12:56 AM Abe: because I have more sense then to jump to action
  when It not necessary
 me: GREAT
 Abe: hey
 me: meanwhile I will be forced to procreate with substandard males
Abe: Dont manifest a bubble around me when you are thinking about negative things
 me: ok
  love you
 Abe: I pay attention
  maybe your right
  but life goes on
1:20 AM get some sleep please
 me: u 2
 Abe: ok Love you
  im gonna look at my mail
 me: I kiss your head  

The next day, I woke up late and hadn't heard from Abe. There was a voice message from my mother who sounded like she was crying (I haven't spoken to my parents in about 2 months because they don't like hearing my 'bad news'):

"We are ok, we are still in Arizona. I appreciate that you called us and were worried about us (emotional beat, mother biting lip) I watched BONES and saw you. Some guy walked in and blocked you from the camera, that really upset me." 

I wrote an email: 

"Thanks for calling back, I do worry about you guys.

I am battling a depression right now, so I think its best I get through this before calling you guys and talking.

love you" 

They never wrote back.

The news from Orange County claimed there were fist fights at gas stations and some mild panic near the coastline, but mostly there was only some manageable flooding from the tsunami. I sent a couple text messages to Abe and hadn't heard from him til after noon and then it was "OK, I'm busy."

I wrote something to the effect of, I know you aren't trying to be rude, but when you don't respond to me after 4 hours and a natural disaster, I get upset.

No response.

So I wrote back, "Ok, fuck you too."

To that I got a million phone calls until I picked up to him barking at me. I don't remember anything he was saying. I just got my paycheck signed and was at the bank in public.

I hung up to go inside, he called back. More barking. More yelling.

I came home to a Gchat window full of hatred. I just reviewed it to see if there was anything worth posting here. There is nothing. Inarticulate bullshit.

Then the email. Four days after we just got over those e-low blows he sends me this:

"Im not sorry, and Im not coming over Sunday night, You are being ingored for bad behavior and I wont pick up your calls."


"You are mentaly abusing me and I dont like it.  IF you need a therapist,we'll set you up with that."

"Don't expect me to keep being nice when you are being foolishly mean to me.   Now you have to deal with not nice Abe, now I'm really angry and I'm going to stay that way.  Like I said, write me your break up letter again because Im not running to you to read it.  Jerk!!   You fucking use me you jerk, bring me my flash drive so I can break your heart.   FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!

*I refuse to spell check his emails for this blog anymore.

First I texted, "I am mentally abusing you by asking you to return my texts? Ok, drama queen."

I wrote via email (so many forms of communication):

"Your hatefulness is not appreciated. You will not have full control of when we talk. That has always been the struggle hasn't it? I am obligated to answer in a timely manner but you don't because you're busy. Never mind that I was running around trying to get my paycheck signed so I could deposit it in the bank before my shift today. Never mind that I wanted to hear from you because I was worried. Not hysterically worried, but worried nonetheless. I called Lana and my parents and heard back from both of them that they were ok.

Now you think its appropriate to "punish me for bad behavior." Sorry, Abe . . . you are way out of line. You want to ignore me, fine.

Accusing me of using you . . . mentally abusing you . . . WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?

I mean, really? Why do I have to tolerate your hatefulness because I didn't do something exactly the way you wanted it.

If I don't hear from you, I will assume the relationship is terminated and behave accordingly.

A day of no contact passed.

A blurb from his explosion via GChat was sinking deeper into my head while I was cleaning mop buckets at Doggie Daycare:

"Abe: but you've really pissed me off
  and you better fucking say you are sorry
  unless its a problem for you---then it must everyones buisness right?

Publishing personal information, even with aliases, has caused trouble in past relationships. I thought about how I wrote so much personal information in this blog and how I may have sabotaged this relationship by building a glass wall around us. Then I thought about the criticisms I get from a few acquaintances, maybe a friend or two. Everyone has a fucking opinion when its your life on the table. Seated on the side as a guest to my story, its easy to present yourself as well rounded and serene individual or couple when you don't document and publish your personal lessons in life. (Who are you kidding?) Some might say I am tacky. Or that I am asking for it by writing so personally on the internet.

In that moment, I thought about all the personal stories I have heard, read, watched . . . how if someone didn't expose their life to the rest of the world, we would never learn from them.  It would be a world without stories. Life would be one large repetition. We would be building the same shaky house on sand over and over again. There would be no reflection, no patterns . . . no "He's Just Not That Into You" integrated TO DEATH  in all American female minds.

Not everyone has to publish their personal problems, but a few of us do. You can call us the sacrificial lambs, letting go of our lives so they can be gobbled up by critics, friends, ex-boyfriends, Facebook connections or  you. We bring blood to the page so you can be entertained or inspired or educated. Just as priests and nuns have a calling to the cloth, I have a calling to the blog.

It is what it is.


I texted Abe late Friday night, "For the record, I really loved you. Throw it away."

The next day he texted that he wanted to talk and his phone was on his heart.

I don't know if you can understand, why I tried again, why I called, why this drama seems eminent in my life when I barely have the energy to get out of bed every morning.

I just needed it to stop.

I called. I always have to be the one to call. We talked, well . . . he talked for a long time. He said, "I don't sound very angry, do I?" I said no. Why did that matter?

He spoke about how he really doesn't think that critically of my personality, of my lifestyle, etc. How we get along in person, I just have to be more tolerant of his communication habits. He is new at relationships. He is starting a job tomorrow and will be able to see me as he is passing through Los Angeles. Blah fucking blah.

I was angry. I was angry because he threw another acidic letter in my face only to have a mature conversation with me after a torturous 24 hours of silence. The push and pull game.

So I was cold with him. I told him how I felt like I was being thrashed about emotionally, how we just barely got through the last incident less than 5 days ago, and he is repeating cyclical behavior.

He acknowledged that and said it would not happen again.

The problems were still my fault because I always wanted him "at an arm's length all the time" and never seem to think he is coming back (NOT TRUE). I am an independent woman, and asking to see my boyfriend more than once a week is not too much after a year courtship.

I broke it off. No whiskey, no secrets, no make-up from break-up sex whispering 'I love you's just before coming on me.

I hung up.

When I woke up, I felt nauseous. It was like a boulder in my stomach, refusing to turn. I called him. No answer.

I texted, "Dammit Abe. I am heartbroken."

No answer. I told myself, 'Leave it alone.'

2 Hours later, I texted, "I will get over it."

No answer. Please, leave it alone.

2 Hours later, I texted, "For your next girlfriend, I realized that I send negative messages because those are the only ones you respond to. We both created a pattern out of it."

No answer. Why couldn't I just leave it alone?

After lunch, I got a, "cm" which is Abe-code for Costa Mesa. He accidentally texted me. He used to do that all the time.

I wrote, "I also think that you are right that I am emoting too much negativity, but we are both guilty of that."

He wrote back, "I tried to work it out but you decided to walk all over me. I am grabbing drinks with Ian."

I wrote, "Do you feel superior spitting in the face of someone who acknowledged some of your criticisms? See how long the satisfaction lasts."

I went to the Barefoot Lodge with the rest of the Doggie Day Care crew. I was early, ordered a Pabst Blue Ribbon and sat at the bar alone. I felt my head hanging low, so much that there was a strain on my neck.  The girl next to me said, "Can you watch my drink so no one puts a roofie in it? No tonight." I laughed and said ok.

Then Trent and Ocean (a receptionist at the Doggie Daycare of whom I carry ridiculous lesbian banter with on my shifts) found me. The light inside me turned back on.

The typical jokes. I would go down on her. She would go down on me. And Trent would go down on both of us even though he is homosexual.

It made me feel better.

When the alcohol's steam rose into my head, I showed him the texts and he said, "Its about power. Now you lost power because you wrote him back. You had the power when you broke up with him."

I said, "I don't want it to be about power. I hate that bullshit."

Trent said, "I know but that's what it is. He might not even know it."

I said, "Either he sent me another terrible email to test me or to sabotage the relationship."

Trent said, "He just thinks an apology will fix everything, like it did last time."

He also said, "When you don't work and your parents take care of you, you don't know there are consequences to your actions. He doesn't know that yet."

and, "Family is different. You can't behave towards other people like your family, cause they aren't. Your actions have consequences that make or break that relationship."

and, "He might not know these things yet . . . but he will when you don't communicate back with him."

I felt warm water sting my eyes and I said, "Great, so I was his lesson."

Trent held my hand and apologized.

He said, "You know life. You know what you want. You have had other relationships. You know what you work for and what you get. He doesn't know yet. I'm sorry . . . don't cry. He will figure it out. He doesn't know how lucky he is to have someone who is willing to have an adult conversation about it. Its just about power to him right now."

I said, "Whatever" a lot and "Its ok" and "I have been through a divorce and a five year relationship, I will get through this." Then the tears came and I said, "But I really loved this one."

Trent held my hand and said, "I know . . . I'm sorry."

I will never share my secret with another person again.

I can't proofread this fucking blog anymore, its making me sick . . .

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