February 11, 2008
3:18 PM

Finishing the Psycho Ex Story

I can't believe I went through the entire year of 2007 with no entry. So where did I leave things before? Oh yeah, that psychotic ex of mine. Jesus, that time with her was a fucking nightmare.

The novelty of her being an "angel" and me being a "devil" was cute and all at the start. I'm sure others have seen these sorts of relationships. I'm not talking about the saying "opposites attract" (which I do believe holds true, but only in terms of opposite PERSONALITY types like dominant vs. submissive, talkative vs. quiet, etc.). No, I mean people who are opposites in terms of ideologies or subcultures. Again, it's all cute at first, but eventually you have to wake up to the reality of being incompatible.

Yes, I know that romance movies and books paint the happy story of two people falling in love despite being from opposing sides (different social classes, or two countries who are at war with each other, whatever), and staying together no matter what. But again, reality shows that there are limits to this.

But as pathetic as it sounds, I actually hooked back up with her for a month or two after the first break-up. I've had more than my share of tragic break-ups in the past, but this one had me more miserable than ever when I first tried to end it. I was crying on almost a daily basis. There were times at the office where I just had to walk out to my car or some place private when nobody was around and let it out.

So truth be told, we did eventually get back together some time after the party. And then it was back to the old emotional roller coaster ride. She of course wouldn't let me forget how it was all my fault to end things the way I had done and "throw away such a good thing". So there was always the idea that she was "letting me back".

New Year's Eve seemed like the opportune time to see each other again for a romantic evening. I already had plans to go up to see my friends in Canada. She said what I wanted to do was up to me, but of course got angry when I said I was considering going to Canada. I bought into the guilt trip and cancelled my plans (which pissed off my friend in Vermont, as I was his ride up and bus fares would be expensive so late in the game; I forwarded him money).

And again, back to the old emotional roller coaster ride. She saw pics of me at the party with my friend L and flipped. "You're cheek to cheek in that picture!" "No, I just took the picture by aiming the camera at us with one hand, so we had to stand close. You can see from the shadow here that we're not cheek to cheek." "But my friend saw the picture and said the same thing, that it looked like you two were really close." Then it was revealed that I danced with L at some point (and I thank L for being a supportive friend that night when I was being so miserable...and dancing was all we "did"). That made the psycho girlfriend flip out, to the point where she convinced herself that I probably broke up with her just before the party, just so I could go to the dance "with L". Ridiculous.

I can't remember too many of the other fine details. She had come to my place a few times in January. Valentine's Day came and I got her a TON of stuff from FTD delivered to her office. She was ecstatic and said I was "officially out of the dog house". But things came to a climax a weekend or two later. She wanted to go out to see one of the museums in NYC. She said she was feeling "hormonal" and depressed. Insisting on spending the weekend with her seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

It was the museum trip that was the final straw. She was right, she WAS hormonal. She'd go into hysterics over the stupidest little things. EVERYTHING I said was somehow made out to be egotistical or the wrong answer.

First, let me give you a lesson in masculinity studies. One of the popular male stereotypes is that men don't ask for directions when driving. You can extended this to finding something at a mall or a museum. It's true that men on average will not ask for directions as the first and immediate resort, but women don't realize why. Women often just scoff at it as some macho thing. It's not about pretentiousness, but self-responsibility.

It goes back to the whole hunter/gatherer thing: men on the whole are better when it comes to giving undivided attention to one task at a time, and also at visualizing the rotation of 3D objects. This is why men are better at parallel parking, but worse at remembering where anything in the house is kept. We have the means to figure things out, especially if we have tools like a map. So given the task, you try to do it on your own fisrt. To ask for directions is to give up, and to burden another person with your problem. You at least want to TRY it on your own first.

You can now imagine how oh so enjoyable it is to navigate your way through a crowded museum an hour before it closes, when you're a man with a map, and paired with a PMS-ing woman. What is it you want to see next, dear? OK, give me 30 seconds to find this on the map. In fact, an additional 20 seconds would also help out a lot in the long run because then we'd have a better idea of where we are. NOPE...that's asking to way too much! Better to run off and find somebody to directly give us the answer. Which in turn involves following the map somewhat anyway. And of course, while trying to read a map and navigate through the crowded people jungle to get to her majesty's desired exhibit (or restroom, or place to step outside for her cigarette), I get yelled at for things along the way, like not holding the door open for the people behind me.

On top of all this, I am trying to 1) give attention to exhibits so that I can enjoy them (of course we never got around to the one I really wanted to see), and 2) explain some details of these things on occasion to Miss Double-Digit IQ, while not saying anything that will make her explode. This was very tricky to say the least. We were looking at one exhibit and she asked me what exactly BC and AD meant. And this woman was what, 35? And she didn't know? I explained it to her with extreme patience and not a hint of anything that could be possibly taken as being "talked down to". Just another sign in retrospect that this woman was not my type.

Back at her place we ended up playing Scrabble (she won...thank goodness). She was up late, spending most of the time looking at ridiculous spiritual and conspiracy theory stuff on-line. Like photos of the WTC on 9/11, where the smoke supposedly looks like Satan's head. She's completely engrossed in this, partially to proselytize to my atheism. I laid in her bed next to her that night, thinking "This is it. This will probably be the last night I sleep in this bed. Or stay in this apartment."

In the morning she was getting ready for work and it was all pretty simple: take everything of mine out of her place. This made it clear that she was breaking up with me once and for all. It had honestly been a bit ambiguous until then. "Do you have everything? Everything? Are you sure?" Then we were off in to some other fight. Until I stopped in the middle of conversation and said "Wait a minute. Why I am I here arguing with you? It's over. I don't have to listen to any of this. Bye!" I took my remaining things and headed back to the car. She yelled down a bunch of insults of me being immature and walking away while she was talking, and all that. Fuck that. It was over. We both got into our cars, heading in the same direction until she had to turn a corner to go to work. She sent me a quick text message to apologize and wish me well. I didn't respond. And that was the last I ever saw or heard from her.

Leaving this second (and final time around), felt completely different. The first time, I was crying. This time, I felt RELIEF. I was thankful that everything was finally fucking over. No more sacrifices. No more walking on thin ice. No more defending debates on my sexuality. No more hiding myself. It was DONE. The burden was lifted. I felt like a soldier returning from a war: exhausted, but relieved.

That's the LAST time I get into a relationship with somebody who believes in angels.

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