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Being Taken for Granted

I feel a blog coming on!!

Sorry for my relative silence this past week. I'm undergoing a giant dilemma. It started, innocent enough, with unloading my belongings from a 14' U-Haul truck, belongings soaked by rain water which came in through the air vents. Added to the mix was my hired help: a guy with a fractured ankle.  As a woman on a tight budget, I couldn't be too selective and he fell within my price range. While I hefted boxes, picked up and carried furniture, he was instrumental in standing there. His words of admiration, "Wow, for a little lady, you're real strong," provided motivation to pick up even more boxes. He misunderstood why I savagely lifted those boxes: I really wanted to attack him with a blunt spoon, aiming for the underbelly. Summoning my scant resources of self-discipline, I attacked the boxes instead. But there was another reason for my superwoman strength:

Desperation. I had to return the 14' U-Haul truck that morning!

A week later, I continue to be rather tired. Luckily, I stopped peeing blood. But that's not the dilemma addressed here. It's something else. Something even worse than unloading a truck filled with sodden cardboard boxes, 30 years' accumulation of crap, aided by a guy with a fractured ankle, risking my back, resulting in some slight internal hemorrhaging:

It's about drawing the line in the sand. Getting off the pot. Cutting bait.

In other words, my dilemma stems from this philosophical musing:

When do you let go of someone who did you right, but others wrong? Should you wait until they throw you under the bus, an inevitable consequence of befriending them? Or should you stand by their side through the thick of their shit, only to discover they possess the morals of a jackal?

What I'm talking about is ending a relationship. Not a romantic one, mind you. Those seem to be the easiest in terms of drama. Provided that the guy's not out to make a fine tattooed leather jacket from my flesh. It's about a friendship. A special type of friendship: one with a lunatic. A lunatic who thinks he got something over on people. A lunatic who got caught.

I've issues about that which I wrote in an earlier post, being a magnet that attracts lunatics (http://kiss-keepitsimpleschmuck.blogspot.com/2012/09/fuck-yeah-im-back-from-vacation-full-of.html).  I strongly urge you to read it. Sometimes I can be a fount of wisdom and sometimes I'm full of shit. I figure, if you're already this far into the story, perhaps this refresher post will help you along with my point of view.

Right from the beginning when he first contacted me online under the guise of a woman, I knew he was a man. My first thought was, "You gotta be shitting me. Does he think I'm a rube?" I told my girlfriends who thought he was a 500lb diesel dyke shut-in.

"No, he's a man," I insisted. "Women don't write like that."

I let him believe I didn't know that he was a man and not a woman. One of the top topics I addressed in my comedy ebook, "eWomen are Lunatics." You really should read this ebook!

The funny aspect is that I begged him to read that and "Men, eDating and Mast*****ion." Hell, I even gave him a FREE coupon and he still didn't bother! What makes the whole thing ludicrous was that he kept promoting those two books online!!!!!

At this stage I was head-banging. What would it take to let him know I know outside of my subtleties??? Online, he tormented people and a flock of men approached me. "Who is she?"

My attitude is that if they can't tell he's a man, they won't believe me. They'd think I was jealous. I had no intention of outting him. This is the internet, after all, where the majority of people are not who they say they are. I am who I am because my intention is to sell BOOKS. Instead, I told a ton of them, "I'm real. She's a fantasy." At least one listened to me.

The other facet to not outting him was that I considered him a friend - a person I never met face-to-face, never spoke on the phone with, yet an online friend who did me good. A lot of good. Support, exposure of my books (even the ones that, if anyone bothered to read, would out him) and promotion of all my books. Not to mention considerable assistance in editing one. Amazing support. In return, I did stuff to enhance his life and his project, an online comedy magazine: in addition to writing articles that he published, I provided business direction and guidance with immediate record results. Incidentally, the magazine's fucking amazing and I'm proud of what I did. I did stuff for the magazine no one else in their right mind would ever do for free. I looked forward to collaborating with him again in the near future to build and grow it and somehow, for me, to even get money for it. In essence, I linked my good name to his project.

Before I knew it, I interacted with him daily online. I shut my eyes to his bouts of weirdness, his chicanery, his unscrupulousness. We were working on the greater good where I recognized his genius, his wit, his brilliance. Ignored the insanity. His arrogance in underestimating me. His belief that he had me under control, fully played. He was sloppy in the way he thought he manipulated me which was a tell as most men underestimate me, ANOTHER posting I've here (http://kiss-keepitsimpleschmuck.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-beauty-of-being-underestimated.html).

I felt immersed in one of those strange plots where he didn't know I knew he was a man while wondering, when will he figure out I knew all along? Hell, ALL my friends knew!!!! It was a topic of curiosity among us. It puzzled us that no one else realized it. At least it kept us busy this past summer.

Incidentally, he did a few major duty things that only verified he was a man even more:
  1. He constantly messaged me. All the time. ALL THE TIME. Only men do that. And he wrote the same things to me that my ex-boyfriend did all the time: Where are you? What are you doing? Are you ok? when I didn't respond. Honestly, that messed me up because it confirmed I was dealing with another lunatic man.
  2. He purposefully made sure he wrote cryptically to me in haiku form. Because if he wrote full sentences or expressed himself fully he would give himself away. Sadly, I knew all along. What made matters worse was that he copied my expressions and wrote them back to me! This is the sickest part (for me): those weren't even my expressions, but those of my ex-boyfriend!!! Ok, admittedly, I've a warped sense of humor.
  3. His reaction to a photo I sent him. I've a strong ego and know that I'm attractive. Which is why I don't care about putting up great photos of myself. On my FB page, I've a profile photo of a taxidermied rodent! I love that photo. And I sent him photos over the summer when I had that flesh-eating zombie disease that disfigured my face and neck for a month. My intention was never to seduce him, it was a writing partnership. Still, I sent him one photo displayed on my post (http://kiss-keepitsimpleschmuck.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-invisibility-factor.html) and he went berserk! "You're beautiful, stunning," he messaged and emailed me. Yep. Just like a man.
Dear Readers, you should really read my ebooks!

Truthfully, all that stuff really appeals to my weird sense of humor. I did enjoy my online chats with him. I had a lot of fun with the banter. It reminded me of my late brother, Matt. We spent hours trying to top each other in chat with puns. In retrospect, perhaps that's why I enjoyed those chats. I miss my brother enormously and this guy and I shared similar sense of humor. But my brother was way funnier.

Over the past month, however, my interest waned. His online chats deviated and were laced with threats and heavy-handed manipulation which chafed me to no end. As did the faux interest in my detrimental health and finances. (I tend to get melodramatic in online chats. I wax on like one of those frail 1920's women who swoon from being subjected to a fart.)

No doubt he perceived me as one of these frail women. Regardless of how many times I insisted that I'm far stronger than how I come off on chat (strong enough to haul boxes for 4 hrs from a 14' U-Haul truck, strong enough NOT to go to the hospital after peeing blood for two days), he treated me as extremely vulnerable.

What a fucking joke!

In retrospect, I realize now how he discounted who I am and what I did in my former and current careers. What I also realize is that he never achieved much and self-sabotaged whatever he did accomplish. So how could a person like that really take into account who I am?

Well, he fucked it all up this past week. Spectacularly. Like front page headlines in all the major newspapers fucked up. No exaggeration there. I would say he created such a wonderful clusterfuck that he imperiled his job and his reputation. Not to mention the public humiliation factor. For doing that, he now stands apart from all the other lunatics who once surrounded me and won the "I fucked everything up to the nth degree" award hands down. I built a statue here just for him. Used aluminum foil and twigs. Kinda resembles a dalek on drugs. Doubt, though, he'll want to receive it.

Now, with his public flailing, I see him for who he truly is. And I don't like it or him at all. He makes me feel queasy. He makes me second guess what I saw in him as a valued friend. I don't like that. I don't like to feel indebted to this lunatic. For the simple fact that, as long as I can serve his purpose, to get this magazine global, he won't throw me under the bus. No matter how you cut it, it's gonna end bad.

Meanwhile, down at the ranch, he believes he can get the magazine up and running again. He told me it was against the advice of his lawyer. "Lawyer," I screeched when I read those words. He's reckless with his life, but shit, man, I'm not reckless with mine! Ok, just a little. But I do have great street creds and I'm not going to toss that away for a lunatic who self-sabotages despite the fact that he has a terrific product. It's that unreliability factor that lunatics bring to the table. You just can't trust them not to fuck up again.

At the same time I wonder whether he's saying he's going to relaunch the magazine to muzzle me. Keep me from opening my trap about what went down behind the scenes and how weird he truly is. It got real trippy this past week where he took the mantle of another female persona. It's all comical. He really thinks I'm that weak minded that I can't tell what he's up to?? He's dealing with a comedy writer who writes comedy about people like him. The very same person who wrote comedy for his comedy magazine.

Give me a fucking break!

I also wonder whether I got the last laugh. Only time will tell.


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This blog and its posts are a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.











3 comments:

Anonymous said...

No, but seriously, she's not really a guy, is she?! :D

maura stone said...

Oh yes. A 250lb bearded guy. I wonder if any readers will get who I'm talking about?

Alley Flos said...

MS I loved that not only me has come across these 21st century neanderthals and find them some what endearing Their techniques may have changed but they are all just as you say lunatics or as I call them mind fucks. something to be said for playing around with a mind fuck its fun until someone gets burned or you lose your mind in the process. Its masturbation of the ego and it lets us know we are human. Gotta love that.