When is enough...enough

So I was reminiscing with an old friend today about all the things we used to do and share and it was fun...but then I had to ask when is it time to give up on an old friendship because all you have are those memories? So often we don't want to hurt anyone's feelings by letting them go even though we know there is truly no room to grow (NO I DIDN'T MEAN TO RHYME). Yesterday is always nice to remember. You think of all of those days and wonder how you made it through them without this or that person and then you realize you are probably better off not going that route ever AGAIN...and then you meet new people.

The new friends get introduced to the new and improved you (new and improved never made sense to me...it's either new or improved). The you that has a career, money in the bank, a different reputation amongst whomever is around at the time. Those people get to see how you've grown...not the old ugly you with a uni brow, awkward stance and mushroom bob...(never had any of those except the mushroom bob...and yes I thought I was the freshest thing coming or going)... So back to the question...when do you let go? What are your reasons? How do you have that conversation? Is it a breakup conversation or just a "fuck you pay me" conversation or a "I deleted you from my phone so I don't accidentally send you a text inviting you somewhere I would be embarrassed if you showed up" conversation? How awkward!!!! Think about all the people around you, you call "friends", now label them...BEST friend, Club/Going Out Friend, Talk Shit about Men/Women friend, Food friend, Bounce an idea off of them friend, mess around friend, or the friend you've been in love with forever but have punked out on just about every opportunity to let them know friend, or the "hey how are you" friend, oh wait...the classic one "I ain't got no money but I am always down to do anything" friend. Once you've put everyone in their place...decide who can go and won't be missed and who has to stay... Now for the conversation...I myself am a PUNK ASS when it comes to ending significant relationships in my life...I would rather delete you from my phone and pray you never call again so I will not have to answer as to why I just up and disappeared...but some people do deserve the "CONVERSATION".

So that being said...here is how it might go...

You: Ring Ring Ring
Them: Hello...hey what's going on?
You: Nothing...what's up with you?
Them: Nothing just chillin'...what's up?
You: Ummm...nothing...(long pause) Look I've been meaning to talk to you for awhile.
Them: What's wrong?
You: This ain't working...
Them: What the hell are you talking about?
You: I don't want to be your friend anymore.
Them: Is this high school? Are you freaking kidding me? FUCK YOU.
You: Ummm okay bye...
Them: FUCK YOU AGAIN...and I am going to tell everyone your business.

See why I think the disappearing act would be better.... I guess I will start cleaning out my contacts now...Can you breakup via text? I guess that is the next topic :)

The Intrusion...

I heard the front door alarm beep while I was in the shower. I wasn’t ready. I still had an hour before he was supposed to return. I didn’t want him to see my dress and accessories hanging on the door. Tonight was supposed to be magical. I dried off quickly, running down the hallway to my room. The light was still off so I guess he was in the kitchen making himself a drink or getting a bite to eat. He couldn’t ever wait for dinner. He had to start early with everything. I guess it isn’t terrible that he was an on time person, but I wasn’t. I was always five minutes behind schedule even when I started out ahead. I slipped into my robe and started to lotion my legs.

Winter always gave me the roughest skin. Dry, scaly, alligator skin because all I did was wear boots and jeans and slacks and leggings. Nothing that ever required any part of my legs to show. He always thought it was funny to rub his hands over my soft, DRY, skin when I undressed. He would try to write his name with his finger nail. Scrawling out the letters in the ash and dead skin. I could hear his footsteps as he tried to tiptoe down the hall. I giggled to myself because he was always happy or playful and it made me feel the same way. He made me feel so secure, so protected. He was everything I’d ever wanted. But the door opened and it wasn’t him.

“Don’t scream?” A pair of his blue jeans were folded on the bed covering his dirty socks. One tennis shoe had disappeared, while the other sat near the bathroom door. His famous “This Cock Rocks” Belt buckle had found its way into my overturned heel. My panties lay crumpled on the disheveled sheets exposing the remnants of a private moment. An innocent moment stripped of its purity. Lavender and lilac fragranced oil scented the scene. I couldn’t believe this was happening again. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” My ex had returned. I knew in my gut he hadn’t given me back all my keys after the last time I found him waiting in my living room for me. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to believe he just needed closure. I wanted to be nice. To make him feel like we were still in love to some degree. I shouldn’t have done that and now I was going to die because of it. I moved towards the door. My bedroom suddenly felt like a dungeon. He followed my movements, grabbing at my wrist as I reached for the doorknob. Chills ran up my spine. Alarms rang in my head. My Alarm is all I thought about. I can’t believe I hadn’t armed the stupid thing before I got in the shower.

“What do you want?” I said. He was motionless. His clothes wrinkled and dirty from days of wear. His cologne masking a body odor so pungent I wanted to throw up. He handed me a sheet of paper. A poem he’d received from me in the beginning of our relationship. A sticker from our first date was taped to it. “ Im not going to hurt you.” He said. But he already had. He tore my heart apart. He destroyed my trust, my belief in the relationship system. He destroyed the fantasy we were creating. My heart felt stomped on and set a fire. I was disgusted by the sight of his face. The sight of his sadness and pity he thought he deserved because he was suddenly alone in the world. He didn’t deserve me any more than I deserved the disruption he’d just made in my life and night. I felt an anger swelling inside of me and I’d suddenly became something he should be afraid of.

I pushed the door closed with my free hand and turned towards him. I was shorter by too many inches but I felt as big as the hulk. I pushed my finger deep into his chest. Touching the wounds in his soul. I pushed with all my might, backing him into a crawl space. His eyes now groveling like a wounded dog. I broke him with my thoughts. Fuck you! Fuck you for ruining my night. Fuck you for breaking my heart. Fuck you for allowing me to fall in love with you knowing you didn’t plan on returning the favor. Fuck you for showing up to my house unannounced and thinking some stupid fucking poem was going to save us somehow. Fuck you for thinking my new man wasn’t here. Fuck you for intruding in my life once again. Fuck you for ever smiling at me. For ever holding my hand. For ever buying me a gift because they were all fake promises and fake gestures. Fuck you for thinking you could intimidate me. And fuck you for ever thinking you could hurt me again. I’d taken all his power. Ripping out his heart then feeding his leftover shit back to him. His slid down the wall just as the door to my room swung open. There stood my knight in shining armour. Fist full of flowers, hair perfectly combed, jacket perfectly pressed, face full of worry. I went to him, smiled and kissed him on the lips. “You’re early. Give me a few minutes to finish getting dressed.”

Stalker

Lunch time!!!!!!! I’d been waiting on this hour since I got to work. I couldn’t wait to go on my walk. I’d been a little depressed lately and to help I started walking and listening to different types of music hoping something would give. Well it did. I’d managed to start a secret love affair with a man in the building next to mine. It was so exciting. It was hilarious how we met. He’d gotten my sandwich at the deli and I’d gotten his. We laughed about the mix up, exchanging horror stories of this particular deli and then went about our day. I started to see him all the time and that’s when I found out he worked in the building next to me. I saw him again at the deli. He waved but was in a rush to get back to work. I’d been alone for so long. I dreamed of us meeting to walk and talk and fantasize about dumb things we would never do.

I still don’t know how it happened because it was completely out of character for me. And it must’ve been out of character for him as well because he was always nervous when he saw me. I knew he felt the same attraction I did. I’m not completely dumb, I knew he had to have someone at home but you can’t fight true love. He was so handsome and smart. He had to be shy though because whenever he saw me he would try to hurry off. I would wait outside my building until I saw him and then I would start walking. I felt safe knowing he was nearby while I was walking. My music was usually loud so I’m sure he thought I didn’t want to talk. I just knew our conversations would be deep and thoughtful. That’s what people in relationships have right? Deep and thoughtful and meaningful conversations about things that mattered. Our love mattered and we would’ve discussed that often. He would turn and give me a smile when I was getting too close. It was his signal to me that people were watching and I had to slow down but that he still cared about my feelings. Today was going to be magical though. I was finally going to take a chance and walk beside him. I was going to make the first move since he was shy. I prayed before I left my desk that he wouldn’t think I was too aggressive but I couldn’t stand it any longer. I decided to wait in front of his building this time. I watched all of the people out on their lunch break; sitting, eating, reading, relaxing. They didn’t have what I was going to have. An hour of pure bliss with the man of my dreams. I checked my watch to see what time it was. He was late today. I started to worry that he might’ve been out sick or something. I moved closer to the front doors; more people came and went and 30 minutes had already passed. I started to get angry. This is why we should’ve exchanged phone numbers long ago. I could’ve texted him or called to see if he was going to be late. My stomach was rumbling now. I was hot and hungry and now my lunch break was almost over. Today was supposed to be magical. I paced in front of the doors hoping he would appear. I felt so nervous. My palms were sweaty and my heart was pounding. What if he saw me and got nervous that I would reject him. What if he was out imagining life with someone else? I couldn’t believe he stood me up on our magical day. I stopped and stared at the door. I willed him to show up. To just walk out of the door and give me some sort of explanation but he never came. Ever. I wanted to just go inside the building and ask for him but I didn’t know his full name. His name at the sandwich shop was always Michael B. Maybe the security guards would know him if I described him. Maybe they knew what floor he worked on. I just needed an explanation. I started to cry like a lost child. I just needed to know what was going on.

A security guard asked if I needed help. I told him I was waiting on a friend. He nodded at me and then started to ask me a million questions. I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want Michael to think I was interested in this man if he saw me. He asked me my friend’s name and I told him Michael B. I told him that he was actually my boyfriend and I was just waiting for him to come out for our walk. I told him and he just smirked. His face was starting to get red and his tone changed from friendly to mean. He kept asking for Michael’s last name. I didn’t know it and I couldn’t tell him I lied about him being my boyfriend. Two more security guards showed up from out of nowhere. One stood so close I could smell his breath. It reeked of cigarettes and coffee and shit. Who doesn’t realize their breath smells like shit? The small one was looking for trouble. He asked me if I really had a boyfriend. I was so angry. Did these idiots think I was making this up? I screamed and cursed at them and then the police showed up. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Today was supposed to be magical. I sat in the back of the squad car explaining my situation to two cops who barely cared. I was shaking and they asked if I was on medication. I didn’t understand what was going on. I watched as one of the officers went to talk to the guards. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the doors of the building open and Michael B. walk out. I screamed so loudly it startled the cop standing outside the car. He slammed the door and told me to calm down. Michael walked toward the officer and started speaking with him. I knew he would save me. He pointed. They pointed. He pointed towards the streets where we walked. He kept talking but never made make eye contact with me. He didn’t smile to let me know I was alright. He looked afraid. He looked at me like I was a stranger. I knew right then our love affair was over and he would never acknowledge what he had. I’d lost my love and I didn’t even know what I’d done.

What Are You...

I sat across the desk from this woman who held my fate in her hands and I wasn’t in the best mood. I felt stressed from work and I was tired of all the back and forth this company had given me about my house. She read and thumbed my paperwork. Licking her fingers to turn the pages which completely grossed me out. I could feel her negative energy barking at me like a chained dog. She was surprised when I walked in her office. I wanted to believe it was only because I look so young but I felt her friendliness retreat at the sight of me. I held my breath, checked the time on my phone, shuffled through my purse and even tried to rub out a small dirt spot on her carpet while I waited for her response. “You checked too many boxes on this form. Let me help you. Sometimes you people have a hard time figuring this out.” I pretended I didn’t hear the “you” before the people. I pretend in many situations because it’s just easier to get done with the moment. I hate to be put on the spot, especially when I’m trying to play nice. It made me feel stupid. I always wonder if people hear the things coming out of their mouth’s.

“Im sorry.” My tone clearly relaying what should’ve been a warning or rhetorical question to her. “You’ve marked too many boxes on our demographic questionnaire.” Obviously my tone didn’t work. I knew exactly what form she was talking about. It clearly said, mark all that apply, and that’s what I did. I marked my boxes. She stared at my face, deciding which route to take. I clearly looked agitated. And she clearly looked like she was ready to have a reason to throw me out of her office. I don’t think she was racist. I just think she was angry. She looked angry. Her mouth and lips were curled in as if she hadn’t smiled in years. I checked Caucasian because my mother is an Italian Jew. I marked Black, because my father is black, or, African American depending on what organization is asking. And I marked Native American because my father is half Native American. I didn’t mark “of Latin or Hispanic descent” because I’m not that. At least I don’t think I am. I think she thought I was that. I think people try to assume what I am the moment they meet me. My skin color throws people off, my green eyes give them a run for their money, my big nose can go either way, and my thick, curly hair, if I’m not wearing it straight confuses many. I didn’t really care to get into a conversation today with this woman about where I’d come from or what my background was. I just wanted her to sign the fucking forms, stamp them and move on to the next unsuspecting non-descript person sitting in the waiting room. My mother probably would’ve used this opportunity to bore a hole through this woman’s skull and introduce her to the “way things are now”. I usually run from these types of arguments. I feel they are petty and draining and who the hell really cares if I’m black, white or yellow or green with horns. But this woman, she cared and she wanted a fight. She wanted an answer as to why I checked all these boxes.

“What are you?” Just the tone of the question made my skin itch. I wanted to scream but I just died a little on the inside because out of all the forms in her hand why the fuck did this one matter so much. “I’m human. Does that help?” She sucked in her breath, preparing her rebuttal to my question. I lifted my hands to surrender before she let loose an arsenal on me. Here I go pretending again. I was dying to say as I had died so many times before, what gives you the right to ask me such a personal question. I clearly marked my answers on the paper and truthfully they required no other discussion that that. I’ve been tortured by that question my whole life. That question led to insecurities in myself and my sisters because no one ever asked “who are you” first, they always led with “what are you”. Like that was some grand fucking way to start an interesting conversation. Who I am is Me and I’m all of the information on those forms right there. I’m not a fucking piece of art or a statue in some sanctuary or a lazy susan in your kitchen or a bottle of wine. I didn’t come from somewhere. I just appeared magically after a long night of never mind. I’m not a fucking what. I just want to buy some stuff for my fucking house, that I bought on my own, with my own green money, you asshole. But I didn’t say any of those things. I just smiled and answered “I’m white and black. Do you want me to change the form?” I didn’t take this opportunity, and I hadn’t ever taken any other to stand up for the ridiculousness of this question. I never expressed how torn I felt when I was forced to choose. I never allowed myself a chance to feel the pain of not being recognized for who I was first versus what I was. I wasn’t my skin color, or my green eyes, or my jewish Italian mom, or my black and indian father. I was just me. Satisfied with my answer the woman signed off on my paperwork and feverously shook my hand congratulating me on my approval.

“I do have to say, you have such an exotic look”. She just couldn’t help it. I cringed as I turned to leave. I opened the door before turning and asking her what she was. Sensing the sarcasm in my voice, she folded her arms across her chest before answering singularly. I smiled before I responded, elongating each word as they left my mouth “Oh it must be so easy when you’re basic.” I exacted my pansy ass revenge but it felt great nonetheless. Her body tensed. I watched her standing there frustrated that she had no response and no power left since I already had her signature and stamp. That night I hung that form on my wall in a frame to remind myself that it was merely a form, not me.

Dr. Soft Hands...

Dr. Soft Hands called the next day to check on me and to schedule the first of many oncology appointments. He suggested some holistic options that I should consider during my radiation therapy. As I became more interested in gobbling down the Hawaiian bread loaf my old neighbor kept leaving for me the tone of his voice suddenly reminded me of the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons…wah wah wah…. My neighbor was a horrible old witch but she swore I was too skinny, and I promised her I wouldn’t ever fit into a casket without the assistance of a chainsaw. The thought released a giggle inside of me that translated to a coughing, spitting fit interrupting Dr. Soft Hands spiel. I took his break in monologue as a chance to inform him that I had decided over night that this was it. I wasn’t going to fight this time. I was just going to eat myself to death, leaving my husband the awful task of hiring a crane and semi to move my body. Hopefully he will also invest in a match to burn down our hoarder special house and move to some island with skinny blonde girls who like old computer nerd bald guys. The doctor sighed. I reminded him that pity and empathy never worked on me before. He asked me to reconsider. I told him I would stay alive long enough to make sure my obituary wasn’t stupid and pathetic. In truth, I had stayed up all night writing what would be my final masterpiece….my piece de resistance.

I spoke of my pirating days, my long nights being a “Hooter’s” girl, I told all of my Vegas stories and I even included a few pictures of some people that would definitely end up divorced after my funeral. No one said funerals have to be boring…or did they? I called my lawyer to arrange the details of my demise and home-going celebration and made him promise to make it one of the LONGEST Jewish funerals on earth. My family would have to sit Shiva together in all of their misery and I would get to watch over them as they bickered over the dumbest things. I hoped he would have returned my voicemail already but I’m sure he is probably trying to find a hospital that would admit me before he made any promises. Dying sucks why not make it a little fun! I finally agreed to hear the doctor out on his holistic options. If I could prolong my life just a little bit so I could get some classic Facebook pictures of my hair shedding AGAIN, my skin pruning up AGAIN and just the overall sucky parts of radiation therapy AGAIN, then to me it would be all worth it. He recommended a local clinic and said they would give me more details during my visit. I should’ve known something was right when his voice dropped to a low whisper as he gave me the information.

I hopped in the car, entered the address of the “holistic wellness center”…finger quotes would be necessary at this point in time if you could see me while I wrote this.. my doctor had given me, opened a rice krispy treat, and my adventure began. My GPS annoyingly directed me to a place I was sure my doctor had gotten wrong. The marijuana leaf on the blacked out windows surely wasn’t “Kansas”. I called his office three times to no avail. Why are doctor’s offices lunches so dang long and how come no one can stay behind to answer the phones…JUST IN CASE. I decided to just go with the flow and ring the bell outside of the door. A crackled voice came over the intercom and asked if I had an appointment. I replied with a hesitant “yes”. The voice must have sensed the lack of confidence in my tone so it asked my name. I looked up and down the street, wondering if this was one of those “To Catch a Predator” type moments. I looked in cars to see if I could spot the police or FBI monitoring me. I didn’t want to give my real name. The voice came over the intercom again and loudly…to my embarrassment and dismay said “Are you Elizabeth Stalk?” Oh My God…I am going to jail or hell for this. I nodded yes as if the voice could hear me and the door clicked open. Fucking video surveillance cameras. I quickly glanced around again making sure no one saw me slip into Babylon. The hallway corridor was long. Decorated quite like my most of my doctor’s offices which made me wonder, if there was a “Start Your Own Practice” furniture kit. Lots of beige, brown and soothing colors and pictures of flowers and beach scenes. I walked to the end of the hall and came to another door. A sign on the door read “You will be buzzed in when we are ready to see you. Have a seat and enjoy some candy.” I looked to my right and a bowl full of candy that read “Eat Me” sat on the coffee table. All I needed was a white rabbit with a pocket watch to open the door and I would officially be “Alice in Wonderland”.

I waited for about 10 minutes before the door to the office swung open and a politely plump woman with the biggest smile across her face welcomed me in. She walked me into the lair and immediately took my vitals. I told her I needed to lose a few when she weighed me and she kindly replied “don’t we all”. She sat me in a room with a desk and had me fill out a few forms that I’m again sure were part of the “Start Your Own Practice” kit. A light knock on the door and in walks the doc. Not a typical doctor I was used to. Very jovial, handsome, smelled of patchouli, eucalyptus and skunk. He wore flip flops, which is pretty much the ultimate offense for a man in my book but I gave him a pass because he wore it with a doctor’s coat. He grabbed my paperwork off the desk in a magician like manor, read for about four seconds and then looked up and asked me “Are you ready to get high?” LORD HELP ME AGAIN!!!!! The doctor held my hand as he helped me from my chair. My legs were frozen. He had just asked me a question I swore to my D.A.R.E. teacher I would always answer with a resounding “NO”. I didn’t answer “No” though. I shook my head yes. Looked around and violently shook my head yes again. I felt 16 again. All the peer pressures of the world weighing on me. My mother and father’s voices in the back of my head saying “it’s wrong…it’s wrong”. I felt at any moment a montage of my goody two-shoe life would flash in a bubble above my head and the doctor would think I was a square. Hell I was a square! With tight, sharp corners and no womanly shape, but that wasn’t the type of square he would be thinking I was. He led me into another private room. This room was filled with a large, green Barcalounger chair, TV, DVD player, Ipod docking station and blankets….lots and lots of blankets. My mind immediately went to the last episode of Dexter. I had walked into a killing den and my life would end wrapped in a teal alpaca or cashmere throw blanket from Crate and Barrel. I’m sure the doctor noticed my hesitation and concern because here came Nurse Plump n’ stuff to guide me the rest of the way. She sat me in the chair and offered me water, tea or one of their specialty drinks while I waited. I opened my mouth to respond but I was still stuck imagining my demise and those darn blankets. She handed me a drink in a soft green paper cup. I saw the recycled sign and knew these people were crazy. I HATE SUPER EARTHY PEOPLE…the cup felt like it would melt by the time I finished drinking its’ contents and to not be wasteful I should probably just chew it up like a piece of gum and swallow it. I tasted the liquid. Swishing it around in my mouth, slowly releasing the flap at the back of my throat and allowing it to run down into my stomach. I didn’t die. Nope I sure didn’t. And damn was this drink tasty. I swallowed the remaining Jim Jones juice, leaned back in the chair, pulled the lever to lift my legs and waited. An overwhelming sense of ease started from the top of my head and moved its’ way through my body. My face muscles relaxed, the tension in my neck and shoulders loosened, my stomach puffed out because I could no longer hold the grip on sucking it in, my legs, feet and toes became heavy and tingly. THEY DRUGGED ME!!!!

I thought I would be smoking a joint or a doobie or whatever the hell they called it…hell I even imagined wrapping my lips around a bong like in the movies and watching the smoke fill my lungs with halluncenigenics…even a good old fashioned smoke out like Cheech and Chong would’ve felt right. My mind went in to super overload but I couldn’t move. I tried opening and closing my eyes over and over but a heavy sleepy feeling came over me and next thing I knew….I WAS ASLEEP IN THE KILLING DEN! Well at least my body was…my imagination and dreams took over and I swear I saw Nurse Plump n’ Stuff come in and wrap me in that damn teal blanket. I walked calmly through my brain, opening and closing doors to different areas, all quiet, everyone was asleep at the wheel. A blackness fell over me…not a black blanket or duffle bag…but a blackness as far as light and movement…nothing moved…nothing stirred…I laid down on the non-existent dream floor and I heard my brain say to me “go the fuck to sleep bitch…I’m tired”! I woke up four hours later…hands, limbs and kidney’s in place...no sign of a rape or molestation…no alien probe (a little disappointed with this one)…my purse, car keys and wallet were still in my possession, the pain and ever present ache in my chest had subsided to a bearable place, so I signed my name on the dotted line and officially became a member of the medical marijuana community. Dr. Soft Hands WHY DID YOU WAIT SO LONG TO RECRUIT ME?

What Did She Say...

“What did she say...” she asked as he slumped in the chair. He stretched his legs in front of him, shaking out the uncomfortable kinks his conversation had just brought on. He rested his neck on the back of the chair, staring and counting the circular holes in her ugly ceiling tiles, his phone resting on the table waiting for his attention. He wanted her to just shut up and pour him a drink but she had to fix everything. He smiled to himself as he suddenly heard the familiar clink of ice in a glass behind him. She knew him well…except for the shutting up part. He tapped his leg as he replayed the moment in his head. What had he said to make her so upset. She stormed off in the snow, her movements slow, making the flamboyant exit comical. He tried not to laugh as she trudged forward in the ice, struggling to free herself every two steps. She was angry, she was hurt, she was beautiful and she was done with him. At the time he didn’t care, but suddenly he felt heavy. Who would he tell his stupid stories too, who would he call when nothing about the day seemed right, who would light up a room when the clouds crowded the window, who would he make laugh…questions that didn’t warrant an answer since she was gone. She’d been done before but this time felt real. His phone vibrated, reminding him he’d forgotten about it. “So….” She said as she motioned towards the phone, clearly violating his privacy as she stretched her neck to see the name flashing across his screen. “…what did she say?” He grabbed his phone, wanting to throw it at his mom for being so nosey, he resisted for obvious reasons. Unlocking the screen, her name and text begging for his consideration, “…she said Asshole” He laughed as he rose to his feet, drowning his worries in the glass before slamming it on the table….she still cared.