Mouth of Madness

 

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

I feel Fluffy.


Last week I saw an exboyfriend's truck parked a few houses away from where I work.  I don't know who lives there, but his truck stayed there several days, and had me wondering what he was doing.  It's an interesting house, in that their entire front porch is covered with unidentifiable pieces of junk, and their grass is always high.  At any rate, I didn't dwell on being nosy too long, but I did have occassion to reminisce about our short relationship.  Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking when it comes to men.

This guy, who a friend and I used to refer to as "Aneurysm Boy" after the breakup, was one of the flakier guys I've ever dated.  The friend and I met him at a club one night.  It was karaoke night, and the friend fancied that she could sing - which she could, don't get me wrong, if you happen to like Broadway hits (which I don't).  She could turn Mary Had a Little Lamb into a Broadway soundtrack.

I recently ran across a YouTube video of hers.  We haven't spoken in quite a long time... the last being at the wake of her aunt, whom she had been waiting on to die so she could sell her house and hook up with some guy from Alaska she'd met on the internet.  It seemed that her plan worked, because she was married and video blogging from Alaska.

I stopped associating with her after she began proclaiming to whomever cared to listen that I was a slut.  This came about after a guy she liked showed some interest in me.  I wasn't interested in her guy, but evidently, she wanted to discourage him from any further communication with me, and I guess she thought that my being the proposed slut would put him off.  Hey, I'm not the one that showed up at his place the morning after their first date for a booty call.  No, I am not.  I am also not the one that on another first date with some internet dude, gave him oral pleasures in the mall parking lot.  Okay? 

Be that as it may, we did have some interesting times before the fallout.  She was an odd one, to say the least.  She had a thing for Queer as Folk and the Beatles, called herself "The Fluff" (because she was "fluffy" not "fat") and had a hysterectomy at the age of 30 (I think) because she didn't want children.  She also had her appendix removed at the same time, since she didn't need them.  What kinda quack doctor agrees to cut someone open and remove things just because the patient had a whim?  Then again, maybe he figured this chick shouldn't breed. 

She was constantly on some sort of medically supervised diet, and taking those diet pills that block the absorption of fat, but which also will cause you to have "leakage" if you consume too much fat.  She called it "orange oil", and would loudly proclaim that she had it.  I think someone should have told her that the diet pills wouldn't counteract 12 Fazoli's breadsticks.

You had to feel a little bad for her.  She had a confusing childhood.  Her real mother gave her to her grandmother, who she thought was her actual mother for a long time, and then found out that her real mother didn't want her, and her mother was her grandmother, and her father didn't want anything to do with her.  She was spoiled beyond belief, and was such a total bitch to her aunt, who took her in after her grandmother/mother went a little nuts.  This aunt practically raised her, gave her everything she could ever want and more, and "The Fluff" would scream at her and call her names - it was horrible.  And then the whole "I was just waiting for her to die so I could sell the house" thing.  Sheesh.

My first ever memory of this girl was her coming to visit my neighbor.  I happened to be there, too, and Fluff was all decked out in a pretty little dress - you know, her family had money, and she had all the best.  Anyway, she bounced about the yard, and I followed her around to the back, where I saw her reach down and pick up a nice piece of dog poop.

Some interesting memories in her teenage years were of her sticking her fingers into a fan to see if it would cut them (it did) and snorting Doritos.  Another time, she volunteered to drive me up to see a boyfriend, and somehow managed to run over into a ditch and smash her other aunt's car.  Oddly enough, I got blamed for this.  Of course I did.  The Fluff never did any wrong, at least in her aunt's eyes.

Where was I going with this?  Oh yes, I was speaking of the exboyfriend.  At any rate, he was most a most flaky character.  He was rather cute, a bit round, and most anxious to show me off to all of his friends.  Our first date ended up being a double date at Macados with two of his friends, one of which flirted with me the entire evening.  XBF didn't seem to notice.  The next "date" consisted of us riding around in his truck from one of his friend's houses to the next, to "introduce me".  A little odd, but somewhat flattering, too.  We spent a considerable amount of time on the telephone.  He worked for the railroad, and was gone 5 days a week.  We would get together on weekends.

Our most "memorable" date was spent drinking sodas in K-Mart parking lot after dark, because he was "broke".  Ah... so romantic.  Eventually he started acting really weird, and making up stories about his sister that I still can't make any sense of, but the point of which was that I shouldn't call his house.  Once he called me and asked if I could meet him in a few minutes at Walmart.  I said yes, and went to the designated spot, only to have him not show up.  He eventually called, and had an excuse about being delayed, and asked me to meet him in Arby's parking lot (which, incidentally, was where we met up on the first date, prior to Macados).  I went there, waited... once again, no show.  A call to him only gave me voice mail, so I decided to go home.  He had the most wonderful excuse that a naive woman like myself ate up like candy.  So the next time he called me to meet him somewhere, I went again, like a lamb to slaughter.  Of course, he didn't show, and I didn't buy the excuse this time.

I can't remember the exact details of our breakup, but there was something about calling him from a club and having his mother tell me that he was out with his girlfriend.  Ahem.  I told her this WAS his girlfriend... and shortly thereafter he called me, whereupon I told him to blow it out his ass.  Not really, I can't remember what I said... but it had the same sentiment.

I later found out from his cousin (with whom I was attending college) that he'd had an aneurysm when he was a boy, and hadn't been right sense.

I know how to pick 'em, all right.



Posted at 9/5/2007 9:08:37 pm by Rowan


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