Saturday, September 12, 2009

Rub Some Salt Up In That Bitch


Okay, so you may have noticed on the post about my kinda-sorta-maybe-boyfriend that we are now actually kinda-sorta-maybe-just-friends. Well, here's the story behind that.

After spending three days with him just hanging out, he left for work on Thursday to go to work, while I went to class. I figured after three days, he'd probably want to go home, so I just spent the night at home. At around midnight when I was in bed, I got a call from him. He told me about how much he made that night (a fuckload), he proceeded to drop this on me.

"I think I might have found someone tonight!"

While I've never stepped on a landmine, I at least have a metaphorical idea as to how it might feel. Namely, like someone just punched a big, gaping hole through your stomach even though you thought you were in a good place. Kinda sucks, don't it?

Well, it gets better. The next day in the middle of an impossibly long three-hour Anthropology class, I got a text that from who I assumed was (Oh, let's just call him) Jason (even though that's not actually his real name). He asked me if I still wanted to see him again and that I had seemed distant last night. After momentarily wondering if he knew how I actually felt, it dawned on me that he wasn't Jason. He must have been the guy Jason met last night. To make matters worse, he thought I was Jason. I would have thought this hilariously ironic if wasn't soul-crushingly heartbreaking. For reasons completely beyond me, I agreed to tell Jason he said hi, as I am the world's most wonderful little doormat.

Cut to tonight, when I tell Jason that the guy called and was wondering when he would see Jason again. As it turns out, this wasn't who he met, but rather an obscenely wealthy client Jason had given my number too since (A) he was staying at my place, and (B) he didn't have a cell. No, as it turns out the guy he met was, in fact, a tranny with a bad boob-job.

I know the saying has pretty much been run into the ground, but fuck my life. Imagine trying to put on a happy face and be all supportive knowing the guy you have feelings for has fallen for a tranny with wonky hooters. Draining.

Well, maybe it's for the best. I may have wanted a boyfriend and all, but...I dunno, maybe a friend is good enough for me. It is sort of my fault for getting the message wrong anyway. It's not the meaningful relationship I was hoping for, but maybe this is what I deserve for the moment.

5 comments:

guiltypartner said...

what a fuck!

i swear i am going to kick someone about the lymphatic system!

Mareczku said...

A wealthy client? What the heck does this guy do for a living? It doesn't sound good to me. It sounds pretty creepy to me. If he is that kind of a client I would steer clear as you want to stay disease free. Stay safe, Jeremy.

Peace & Love - Mark

The Management said...

A piece of advice which you may take, or, tell me to cram it up my hetero ass: stop blaming yourself for other peoples actions. Dude spent three days at your place and, if I'm not mistaken, sleeping in your bed. I would have interpreted things the same way.

Ammos said...

Dude, no. Snap out of it. In the words of the great and terrible Tyra: "take responsibilyty for yo self".

Do that by not taking on another person's burden. 'Cause being broken, or an asshole, oblivious or purposely cruel is a heavy load to carry. You've got your own shit and you're working on it. You're being creative hardworking and growing up.

You deserve better. End of discussion.

Jeremy Feist said...

gp: No, don't kick anyone in...whatever that is!

Mark: He's a good guy, and the client is just one of the guys from Campus. No big really.

Doran: Meh, maybe it was something indicative of something else, but still, kinda feel like I walked right into this one.

Ammos: He's a good guy, but I guess I just can't help empathizing with people.