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Battle 1: Go!
After a nice pleasant discussion with my latest victim (aka ex boyfriend), peppered with some delightfully colorful descriptions of each other, on how we plan to split our mutual possessions I was ordered by my father (who, lets just say was "less than thrilled" by my ex's behavior) to get my ass home. Now, my father is generally a very rational and calm man. Provoked, however, he reminds me of a starving and irritated crocodile. I mean, he really looks like a wild animal, it's quite terrifying. I'm serious when I say: he will bite. And to say that he's been provoked would be a gross understatement.
See, my latest victim seems to think that he has been put on this earth to teach me a lesson in responsibility. His mission is to leave me high, dry, and penniless in order to "teach" me to be careful of what I get myself into. This interpretation of reality is absurdly entertaining to me because, as my dad put it, it was obvious to everyone around me from the age of 3 that I was not the kind of girl that would ever roll over and succumb to any man. Any man. Ever. In other words, Mr. Victim is about to learn a lot and teach very little in the days to come.
So as I'm trying to explain to Mr. Victim that he will not be taking anything from me that I don't choose to give him he runs out of intelligence, vocabulary, witt... lets just say all brain functioning capabilities whatsoever, and proceeds to accuse me of manipulating my father in order to intentionally ruin all relationships between the members of our respective families. (Isn't he cute!?) I try to explain to him that he's already ruined his relationship with my family members all on his own because of the disrespectful and immature way he's treated me throughout the duration of this break up. We go back and forth for a while and, being an intelligent, rational human being, I can only argue with someone with the emotional maturity level of a three year old for so long; so I follow Daddy's orders and head home.
Now, I work with Mr. Victim. So I took the next day off (yesterday) because I was pretty certain that if I didn't get some time away from him I may inadvertently cause him severe bodily harm. So, after 4 hours of sleep on my parent's couch I head back up to work, a decent little trek from Mom and Dad's, and I'm preparing myself for the worst when he comes over to my desk, puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me he doesn't want to fight anymore and he can't stand the thought of not remaining friends when all is said and done.
Ok. Let me take a breath real quick before I dive into this one....
Many women (I presume) would be relieved at this kind gesture, this sign of reaching out, this peace offering. I, however, am so far from your typical woman that it was everything I could do not to vomit down the front of his Italian leather jacket. I mean ya, it would probably be nice to not be yelling and screaming back and forth with the person I shared my life with for over two years but did he really have to touch me? I mean... ew. *shivers*
So now I'm angry, frustrated, appalled and nauseous. Another great day at work.
But - there is a saving grace to all of this: just checked the UPS website and my Victoria's Secret order has arrived. So while I get to look forward to wearing a super cute new thong tomorrow I also get to revel in the fact that, since I haven't been doing his laundry lately, Mr. Victim will be wearing the same dirty boxers he wore today.
2 points - Me
0 points - Him
