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Day Three of Stupid Bullshit I didn’t Ask For.
I really dislike driving in the rain. I was in an accident when I was 20. We were coming home from a rave.
(Please leave your lame comments at the door.)
And my st00pid boyfriend drove. Because we were high. And I guess I felt the better driver of the two of us was him.
Is it ever really him? The better of anything? I mean seriously, when is “he is the better” ever the real answer?
It was drizzling and we hit a tiny, teensy, you’d really need to be blind to see it, spot of standing water. He slams on the brakes. Well, of course he slams on the brakes. Because that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to do. Well, the second thing you aren’t supposed to do…is over correct. Jerk the wheel in the opposite direction in which you are hydroplaning.
Yeah. None of the right things did he.
We made three or four revolutions. I’ll never forget how blue his eyes looked to me. Big as quarters as he screamed, “Oh Shit! Oh Shit!” over and over.
We went down a 20 foot embankment on I-75 north just past Barret Parkway and hit a tree head on.
We were fine (obviously, dumbass, I’m writing this) but I was terrified. My little car was totalled.
Anyway, this morning I got super, dooper lucky. I found a parking space very close to class in the rain. As I’m moving through the TLC building (and that does not stand for Tender Loving Class) a chick I’ve never seen before and her very musical theater I swear I’m straight (I’ve got the gaydar of a 25 year old dancer at Swinging Richards) boyfriend walk right up to me.
“You know who the Rockettes are?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The Rockettes. You know who they are?”
“The Rockettes in New York City? Yes, I know who they are. Why?”
“Well, what do they do?”
“Uh, they’re a kickline.”
“Yes!”
Victory was evidently very sweet for her. He walked away bitterly disappointed.
I do what I can. Really, I do.
Anyway, the whole world is now apparently pissed off at me. The thing about this that really sucks is that for all the things my relationship is, it’s fun. It’s no drama. It’s lots of laughing and very little if any crying. The crying usually comes from other people interfering.
Of course I’ve been made to feel like I’m the one with a maturity problem.
Though, I am not passive-aggressive. I went straight to the problem. Like you’re supposed to when you’re an adult. Confront the aggressor. Figure out the problem.
Now, he’s upset with me for being caught in the middle. Which isn’t my fault.
Eventually she’ll get her way. Because for what am I putting up with all this bullshit if there’s no goal. And don’t get it twisted. There’s not. Much as I’d love for there to be.
*sigh*.
Yay. Weekend. Meh.
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