It's a measure of how preoccupied I've been since getting fired that I didn't even mention the latest little dramas among the residents here in Gladystopia.
First of all, and least-consequential: I'm pretty sure LJ's got a girlfriend. He's been spending an awful lot of time out of state--"on business" he claims--but every time he goes anywhere, he asks me to print out directions for him, from Yahoo Maps. And because he's incapable of remembering anything, he doesn't actually KNOW the addresses he's trying to go to; so instead he just opens up whatever text message contains the address, then plops his phone down in front of me so I can get the info. And you can say what you want, but it's very odd, isn't it, for someone who's allegedly his "cousin's girl" to address LJ, in a series of text messages, as "baby"??? And that's to say nothing about the conversation I overheard while I was in the bathroom one night--the walls here at the Catastrophe are very thin indeed, and all I can say about THAT is, he was never all lovey-dovey with ME like that! I'm not jealous--I'm amused. Poor girl, whoever she is; I could tell her volumes about what she's got to look forward to. He's out of town again, this time for "a couple of weeks". The longer, the better, as far as I'm concerned...when he comes back, I'm going to have to confront Big Issue #1.
(You know it can't be good when we have to assign numbers to the Big Issues.)
LJ called me a couple of days ago, see. It's generally not a good thing, a call from an out-of-town LJ; either he wants something, or he wants something, or...Usually he wants something. This time, though, he called to tell me what he DOESN'T want...
He doesn't want the truck anymore.
First of all, and least-consequential: I'm pretty sure LJ's got a girlfriend. He's been spending an awful lot of time out of state--"on business" he claims--but every time he goes anywhere, he asks me to print out directions for him, from Yahoo Maps. And because he's incapable of remembering anything, he doesn't actually KNOW the addresses he's trying to go to; so instead he just opens up whatever text message contains the address, then plops his phone down in front of me so I can get the info. And you can say what you want, but it's very odd, isn't it, for someone who's allegedly his "cousin's girl" to address LJ, in a series of text messages, as "baby"??? And that's to say nothing about the conversation I overheard while I was in the bathroom one night--the walls here at the Catastrophe are very thin indeed, and all I can say about THAT is, he was never all lovey-dovey with ME like that! I'm not jealous--I'm amused. Poor girl, whoever she is; I could tell her volumes about what she's got to look forward to. He's out of town again, this time for "a couple of weeks". The longer, the better, as far as I'm concerned...when he comes back, I'm going to have to confront Big Issue #1.
(You know it can't be good when we have to assign numbers to the Big Issues.)
LJ called me a couple of days ago, see. It's generally not a good thing, a call from an out-of-town LJ; either he wants something, or he wants something, or...Usually he wants something. This time, though, he called to tell me what he DOESN'T want...
He doesn't want the truck anymore.
This--for those of you who are new to my little world here--is a Very Bad Thing. See, back in the summer of 2004, a few months after we moved in together and before things had gone sour, LJ decided that he really, really wanted a truck. Unfortunately, his credit was fuxxored--even more so, at the time, than mine--and so he wanted ME to buy the truck. (His truck, my credit. When do I learn??) We ended up paying entirely too godawful much, at an interest rate of approximately OH MY GOD, for a truck with a whole boatload of problems. Not a small boatload, either...this was at least a cruise-ship-sized boatload. Like, $HOLYCRAP thousand dollars worth of repairs within the first six months, et cetera. The agreement we made was that he would pay for the truck, even though my name was on it. Actually, the initial agreement was that he would pay for the truck AND INSURANCE, but that fell by the wayside early on. I would say, of the 34 months we've had the truck thus far, he's paid maybe half of them--MAYBE half. I'm being generous. But I figured, I was driving it to work; he was driving it the rest of the time, but that didn't bother me; and anyway, if you can't help your boyfriend, who can you help?
When he moved back a few months ago, after he'd moved out for what I thought was for good, I wasn't really happy about it--I no longer had the "boyfriend" incentive, for one. I'd been happier, all things considered, while LJ was gone. But Tim talked sense; he said "You know you don't want to get stuck paying for the truck, especially since he still wants it--why not have his rent be the car payment??" Which made sense, at the time, especially since I was jobless by then and needed the money.
The first inklings of trouble came a few weeks ago; apparently Tim and LJ had talked, man-to-man, one night after I'd gone to sleep, and LJ had mentioned to Tim that he wanted to get a different truck. Tim told me, on the condition that I keep the info to myself, which I did. I already knew that there was something going on with LJ anyway; between overhearing his lovey-dovey phone conversations with some out-of-state girl, and being shown various text messages in which he was addressed as "baby", I figured he had a girl somewhere else. That didn't bother me. My emotional attachment to LJ ended quite some time ago; a few months, at least, before my relapse, and it was only the financial connection of the truck which kept me from telling him to screw off and go elsewhere for his free ride. Really, it was only Tim's intervention which kept me from telling LJ not to bother moving his stuff back into that room when he came back to town.
But now that LJ has disavowed his previous plan to pay off the truck and then take it off my hands, I find myself stuck with a $440 monthly payment on a vehicle which threatens at every mile to do something untoward, which also guzzles $4-per-gallon gas at a truly repulsive rate, and which has, now, upwards of 160,000 miles on it. Gee, thanks, LJ. 'Preciate that.
Not only that, but I'm ALSO now faced with the daunting task of kicking LJ out of my casa, at last. I mean, he can't live here for free. (Yes, yes, I know: Tim lives here for free. Tim's a different case entirely, though...for one, I've known him for ten years; for another, he doesn't WANT to be living here for free; and for a third thing....well, you'll see.) LJ contributes exactly nothing to the common welfare, and in some cases has....What's the opposite of "contributed"? "Anti-contributed" is the best I can come up with right now, and so I'm sticking with that--in some cases, he's anti-contributed to an alarming extent. Also, he's NASTY. I should not, at the advanced age of nearly-37, have to have a sign over my toilet that says "Please Flush--Yellow Water Is Not OK". I just....freakin'....shouldn't. And that's barely scratching the surface of the nastiness. Just EWWW, you know? To lapse for a moment into the vernacular: Dude gotsta go.
And that would be easy, had I the slightest notion of how to carry it out. I don't--again, this will be news only to those of you who haven't been reading me for, oh, say, more than a week--I don't do well with conflicts. The means of evicting someone, in my world, is roughly as incomprehensible as brain surgery, rocket-science, or the thought process that would lead someone to voluntarily vote for Bush. (I've been told that all of the above can be explained very simply; they just can't be explained simply to ME.) I realize what must be done; I'm merely incapable of actually DOING it.
Thank heavens, then, for Tim. Tim has stepped into the role of Man of the House, which...I'm willing to concede the point despite his continued lack of steady income, only because I know his past track-record. In fact, I am inclined to grant him a larger stake in the welfare of this establishment than he has earned, again based largely on his track record. He's an EXTREMELY slow starter in the job front, but once he gets his feet under him, he can be depended upon as completely as the tides. I've asked his advice re: the LJ/truck/housing situation, and I'm sure he'll give me some good ideas.* That's one of the things I like about Tim; he really does try, and he really does mean to do right.
When he moved back a few months ago, after he'd moved out for what I thought was for good, I wasn't really happy about it--I no longer had the "boyfriend" incentive, for one. I'd been happier, all things considered, while LJ was gone. But Tim talked sense; he said "You know you don't want to get stuck paying for the truck, especially since he still wants it--why not have his rent be the car payment??" Which made sense, at the time, especially since I was jobless by then and needed the money.
The first inklings of trouble came a few weeks ago; apparently Tim and LJ had talked, man-to-man, one night after I'd gone to sleep, and LJ had mentioned to Tim that he wanted to get a different truck. Tim told me, on the condition that I keep the info to myself, which I did. I already knew that there was something going on with LJ anyway; between overhearing his lovey-dovey phone conversations with some out-of-state girl, and being shown various text messages in which he was addressed as "baby", I figured he had a girl somewhere else. That didn't bother me. My emotional attachment to LJ ended quite some time ago; a few months, at least, before my relapse, and it was only the financial connection of the truck which kept me from telling him to screw off and go elsewhere for his free ride. Really, it was only Tim's intervention which kept me from telling LJ not to bother moving his stuff back into that room when he came back to town.
But now that LJ has disavowed his previous plan to pay off the truck and then take it off my hands, I find myself stuck with a $440 monthly payment on a vehicle which threatens at every mile to do something untoward, which also guzzles $4-per-gallon gas at a truly repulsive rate, and which has, now, upwards of 160,000 miles on it. Gee, thanks, LJ. 'Preciate that.
Not only that, but I'm ALSO now faced with the daunting task of kicking LJ out of my casa, at last. I mean, he can't live here for free. (Yes, yes, I know: Tim lives here for free. Tim's a different case entirely, though...for one, I've known him for ten years; for another, he doesn't WANT to be living here for free; and for a third thing....well, you'll see.) LJ contributes exactly nothing to the common welfare, and in some cases has....What's the opposite of "contributed"? "Anti-contributed" is the best I can come up with right now, and so I'm sticking with that--in some cases, he's anti-contributed to an alarming extent. Also, he's NASTY. I should not, at the advanced age of nearly-37, have to have a sign over my toilet that says "Please Flush--Yellow Water Is Not OK". I just....freakin'....shouldn't. And that's barely scratching the surface of the nastiness. Just EWWW, you know? To lapse for a moment into the vernacular: Dude gotsta go.
And that would be easy, had I the slightest notion of how to carry it out. I don't--again, this will be news only to those of you who haven't been reading me for, oh, say, more than a week--I don't do well with conflicts. The means of evicting someone, in my world, is roughly as incomprehensible as brain surgery, rocket-science, or the thought process that would lead someone to voluntarily vote for Bush. (I've been told that all of the above can be explained very simply; they just can't be explained simply to ME.) I realize what must be done; I'm merely incapable of actually DOING it.
Thank heavens, then, for Tim. Tim has stepped into the role of Man of the House, which...I'm willing to concede the point despite his continued lack of steady income, only because I know his past track-record. In fact, I am inclined to grant him a larger stake in the welfare of this establishment than he has earned, again based largely on his track record. He's an EXTREMELY slow starter in the job front, but once he gets his feet under him, he can be depended upon as completely as the tides. I've asked his advice re: the LJ/truck/housing situation, and I'm sure he'll give me some good ideas.* That's one of the things I like about Tim; he really does try, and he really does mean to do right.
Which brings me--Tim's Man-of-the-House status does--to Big Issue #2, which seems destined to complicate everything, everywhere, for a good long time to come. Or not, maybe; with things like this you never can tell.
See, a couple of weeks ago--I think it was during the weekend after I got fired--Tim and I had spent the weekend celebrating the Joy of Beer. And as we often do late at night, with or without alcohol, we got to hashing over past events--most particularly, the year that Tim and CR and I shared an apartment. It was a year of misunderstandings, a year of cowardice and bullshit and things unsaid, and even though we've talked it over and over, there are still a few sore spots left in that discussion. Generally, if we're talking late at night, or if there's alcohol involved, we tend to poke at those sore spots a little more than we ought to. We both understand why the other one was mad/hurt/apathetic/insensitive/whatever--we just each understand our OWN pain a little better than the other one's, is all.
Well, apparently there's been more to this situation than I thought, for a long time. Because around the time we got to the bottom of the case of Coronas, the truth came out: Tim says he loves me. And not, apparently, in the platonic sense. And apparently? This has been going on for, like...years.
It's a testament to exactly how knocked-for-a-loop I was by this job thing, that Tim's confession utterly failed to knock me for the appropriate-size loop. My loop was borked, basically. I couldn't do any more shock and awe for one weekend. I was more like "okay...well." That was pretty much all I could manage.
I mean, it's not like I haven't considered it before. Most of my Tim-related blogging has been complaints and bitching, but that's not entirely representative of our friendship. (After he told me how he felt, I actually read back in this blog to see if I'd been missing something; mostly, I found, I was missing a sense of compassion and proportion. There were times I got really bitchy about Tim, and some times he didn't deserve it. Once or twice I was justified, but not all the time.) Mostly, we've been there for each other. I didn't realize exactly how much he'd tried to be there for me until, at one point in the conversation, he enumerated all the times he's offered to help me in some way and I've turned him down--choosing the house, choosing a car, making repairs...apparently he offered his assistance in all these situations, and I didn't take him up on it. I only half-remember the offers, and apparently accepting his help was just not something I was able to do--probably on account of some sense of unearned superiority, or some belief that I knew better than he did. Who knows?
And along with the other things I don't remember...He claims that there was an abortive encounter between us, back in the days where we were sharing a studio apartment and I was still using. He says he was drunk and I was high, and between those two altered states there was very little chance for anything to actually take place...but I would feel better about it if I had even the least recollection of it. I pride myself on remembering things like that--on remembering EVERYTHING, really, despite years of people trying to make me believe things happened when they didn't, or vice versa. The fact that I have no recollection of this leads me to believe either one of two things: either a) it didn't happen, or b) it did. Which pretty much covers everything, now that I think about it.... It doesn't matter, exactly, whether it happened or it didn't; it's more that I'd like to remember if it did. Heroin, man. Wicked stuff.
The other major revelation that's come from this whole new era of honesty took place during a long car-ride, and it went something like this:
Tim (after 30 minutes of hemming and hawing and avoiding the issue): "...So it's like...I wanted to tell you before, but...okay, here it is:" ::::braces himself::: "I'm bisexual." :::flinches for my reaction::::
Me: :::long pause; I mean, the poor guy's got himself all wrought up thinking this is a huge deal and I don't want to disappoint him by blowing it off....:::: "Okay, so what? So am I."
Tim: ::: makes exceedingly comical faces indicating the following: "OMGWTFBBQ?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!"::::
Now, CR had told me long ago that Tim was bi, but according to Tim, CR had absolutely no clue what he was talking about at the time; apparently, Tim has only just figured this out for himself over the past year or so, long after we'd both exiled CR from our lives. It matters to me precisely not at all...
...Okay, that's a lie, actually. Because, you see, Tim's declaration of love for me was tied to an important "but"... he does not want a monogamous relationship, he says. Which, for me, is a bit of a deal-killer...IF it's a woman he's being non-monogamous with. If--hypothetically--Tim and I were to get involved, and he was non-monogamous with a woman, that would not be something I could live with. But if it was a man, I would have MUCH less of a problem with it. What that says about me, I don't know; I'm not really sure I WANT to know what that says about me, honestly. I do know this, though: the next person I fall in love with, it's going to have to be one of those situations where I'm the only one, where I'm not sharing them with anyone else. I realize that's a totally unrealistic scenario, and anti-feminist into the bargain, but here's the thing: I'm not going to settle anymore. I had EXACTLY the relationship I wanted when I was with JP; I've tried to compromise but it just doesn't work for me. I know I'm setting myself up for 50 years of solitude and a lonely death, but this is one of the very few issues on which I can respect my own feelings. I've thought about it; I accept it, and I accept whatever may come of it. I told Tim the same thing; if he and I ever get involved, it will because either he's changed his mind about monogamy, or I have.
In the meantime, though, we are still good friends; we still plan to grow old together in the same house, like a bickery old married couple, and get on each others' nerves at least twice a week. It's good to have a plan, really. We get along, no matter what happens or doesn't; we live together pretty efficiently, all things considered.
And at least HE flushes when he's done using the bathroom.
...Okay, that's a lie, actually. Because, you see, Tim's declaration of love for me was tied to an important "but"... he does not want a monogamous relationship, he says. Which, for me, is a bit of a deal-killer...IF it's a woman he's being non-monogamous with. If--hypothetically--Tim and I were to get involved, and he was non-monogamous with a woman, that would not be something I could live with. But if it was a man, I would have MUCH less of a problem with it. What that says about me, I don't know; I'm not really sure I WANT to know what that says about me, honestly. I do know this, though: the next person I fall in love with, it's going to have to be one of those situations where I'm the only one, where I'm not sharing them with anyone else. I realize that's a totally unrealistic scenario, and anti-feminist into the bargain, but here's the thing: I'm not going to settle anymore. I had EXACTLY the relationship I wanted when I was with JP; I've tried to compromise but it just doesn't work for me. I know I'm setting myself up for 50 years of solitude and a lonely death, but this is one of the very few issues on which I can respect my own feelings. I've thought about it; I accept it, and I accept whatever may come of it. I told Tim the same thing; if he and I ever get involved, it will because either he's changed his mind about monogamy, or I have.
In the meantime, though, we are still good friends; we still plan to grow old together in the same house, like a bickery old married couple, and get on each others' nerves at least twice a week. It's good to have a plan, really. We get along, no matter what happens or doesn't; we live together pretty efficiently, all things considered.
And at least HE flushes when he's done using the bathroom.
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*Although--good advice aside, there is one thing for which I will never ask Tim's advice again: his NASCAR picks. He singlehandedly borked my entire fantasy season with this week's assurance that Kyle Busch was "due for a win". Well, Kyle continues to be "due", and my fantasy league lies panting in the shadow of those who chose Ryan Newman or Denny Hamlin. Dagnabbit. I'd have been better off picking Kasey, and it's small consolation at best that I highly doubt anyone picked the actual winner.
Eeek. I'm glad I'm the broke one and my boyfriend has money. I'll never have to worry about him freeloading.
ReplyDeleteI had a feeling Tim loved/loves you. LJ, be GONE!
ReplyDelete