drama, farce, and nested balloons
Yesterday featured several bits of trumped up drama. It all began with a phone call early afternoon (as I washed my dishes):
"Well, he did it. He drove her away. And now I am going to kill him."
A.'s tone was delightfully controlled, something so out of character as to suggest that he was in fact seething with rage. We have all been watching Y.'s attempts to sabotage A.'s budding relationship with K. for quite some time. Of course, no one has bothered to call him on it. I suspect I am one of the only people who would do so (the trick being that I simply do not see it as my place to even get involved). The reasons for Y.'s meddling are anyone's guess, but the greatest likelihood rests on the fact that he is simply a prick and he would prefer that A. be miserable (nothing worse than being surrounded by excessively chipper and satisfied friends when your own existence blows). Y. is also a wannabe alpha male, being used to attracting women via his average xanthochroid good looks while dominating men through his forceful personality.
This, of course, is the primary reason why Y. and I have never gotten along--I am aware of my superiority to him in almost every respect and I prefer to restrict domination to my fantasy life.
But, yes, Y. wants to be top dog and as such he took great umbrage at A.'s burgeoning relationship with K., who just so happens to be one of Y.'s coworkers. Y. can not tolerate the fact that A. is dating a coworker but Y. had no role in fomenting the relationship. Y.'s natural reaction? To sabotage it.
Thus far, there has been circumstantial evidence to this effect. Y. has spoken ill of A. to K. while at work, attacking A.'s hygene, his personality quirks, and his fondness for RPGs. Thus far, K. has not balked.
Fast forward to yesterday afternoon. Y. was moving out of his current residence and A., who remains Y.'s friend for reasons that have never been clear to me, was expected to help him move. This is yet another example of what a fabulous hypocritical prick Y. is since he refused to make any effort to help A. move a mere month ago. Regardless, A. was planning on helping Y. move and so K. volunteered to join them, it would be a chance for A. and K. to hang out with Y. and his girlfriend, one of those couples events with which I have no experience. Y.'s girlfriend gave K. directions to Y.'s place.
The story goes a little something like this: the directions were flawed and K. ended up lost in DC (I know how that is). She called up Y. and sought further aid getting to his house. Instead of helping her, Y. defended his own girlfriend's directions (he never admits that he is wrong and, it appears, extends this privilege to his girlfriend's mistakes as well). When K. became exasperated with him, Y. essentially called her stupid and told her not to bother coming at all. This story, albeit third hand, is completely in line with Y.'s character. So, that was the last anyone heard from K. A. arrived at Y.'s house to learn that his girlfriend would probably not be coming because Y. called her stupid. A. was understandibly annoyed. Particularly, when he found that she was no longer answering her phone.
So, I received a call, while doing my dishes, from a thoroughly enraged A., convinced that Y. had succeeded in driving K. away. A. was fuming like I have never seen him before. He has built so much hope around this relationship that he desperately paranoid that somehow he or someone else will fuck it up for him. He said he had decided to rally the forces of Boy Bünd. He wanted to make me an offer: he would kill S. for me if I would kill Y. for him. I pointed out that Boy Bünd was never intended to be utilized for such nefarious and self-serving matters. Then, while rinsing out my black stoneware bowls, I carefully walked him through the elements of his overreaction. The issue was between Y. and K., involving A. in no way whatsoever (except that he happens to be friends with both). K. was not answering her phone because she was pissed at Y., not because she had any reason to be pissed with A. If indeed this somehow turned into a relationship breaker between her and A., then she was a complete psycho and no one he should have ever dated in the first place.
My cold detachment seemed to do the trick. So, we made plans for Boy Bünd to gather for the purposes of seeing Undercover Brother instead of conspiring to commit murder. And, having seen Undercover Brother and legitimately found it highly amusing, I feel comfortable stating that we made the right choice.
Before the movie, however, we were joined by M., V.'s girlfriend. We all picked through a stack of books in the back of V.'s car that he intended to give to charity. I grabbed an Escher Pop-Up book, a couple Abnormal Psychology texts, and a textbook on Logic (I have a strange fetish for college textbooks). We then headed off to grab a pre-cinema dinner. It turns out that Saturday was the four-year anniversary of V. and M.'s first meeting. They chose to celebrate this at, of all places, Generous George's Positive Pizza and Pasta Place.
I had not been to that particular restaurant since the awkward termination of my one and only relationship some three weeks ago. For reasons that are not entirely clear to me, I alerted my companions to this fact. I suspect I do things like that, encourage avoidable drama, because I think it will make for a more interesting evening. I am sure that, regardless of whether I made my fellow diners aware of my discomfort, I would have ended up quietly sitting and reliving the events that took place there, which is exactly what I did. As though thoroughly intent on mocking me, the Fates chose to place two obviously gay men (one clad in unacceptibly pink running shorts) at the very table where S. broke up with me. I was fairly distant throughout most of the dinner.
"Please," M. said, wearying of my moping, "it's only [S.]!"
At that moment, I wanted to retort: "Yeah, cunt. And you are completely in love with [V.]. Defend yourself." Instead I explained that regardless of who I was in a relationship with, there was still a lot of awkwardness and unpleasant feelings associated with the locale in which I had previously sat in complete silence for a half-hour, unable to eat my food lest I vomit all over my sudden ex-boyfriend.
Things perked up by the meal's end though. I began embarassing everyone by singing along to Chris Isaac's Wicked Game (when in doubt, default to making other people uncomfortable). We left, saw the film, and then ended up sitting around in a viciously humid livingroom. A. was talking about girlfriends with M. (by early evening, he had heard back from K. and indeed everything was alright... she simply did not want him to witness her when she was angry). V. was chatting about the nature of a consumerist oligarchy with L. I was attempting to blow up balloons within balloons, but the contained balloon kept popping from the extreme pressure.
So, I suppose that's one way to spend your Saturday.
"Well, he did it. He drove her away. And now I am going to kill him."
A.'s tone was delightfully controlled, something so out of character as to suggest that he was in fact seething with rage. We have all been watching Y.'s attempts to sabotage A.'s budding relationship with K. for quite some time. Of course, no one has bothered to call him on it. I suspect I am one of the only people who would do so (the trick being that I simply do not see it as my place to even get involved). The reasons for Y.'s meddling are anyone's guess, but the greatest likelihood rests on the fact that he is simply a prick and he would prefer that A. be miserable (nothing worse than being surrounded by excessively chipper and satisfied friends when your own existence blows). Y. is also a wannabe alpha male, being used to attracting women via his average xanthochroid good looks while dominating men through his forceful personality.
This, of course, is the primary reason why Y. and I have never gotten along--I am aware of my superiority to him in almost every respect and I prefer to restrict domination to my fantasy life.
But, yes, Y. wants to be top dog and as such he took great umbrage at A.'s burgeoning relationship with K., who just so happens to be one of Y.'s coworkers. Y. can not tolerate the fact that A. is dating a coworker but Y. had no role in fomenting the relationship. Y.'s natural reaction? To sabotage it.
Thus far, there has been circumstantial evidence to this effect. Y. has spoken ill of A. to K. while at work, attacking A.'s hygene, his personality quirks, and his fondness for RPGs. Thus far, K. has not balked.
Fast forward to yesterday afternoon. Y. was moving out of his current residence and A., who remains Y.'s friend for reasons that have never been clear to me, was expected to help him move. This is yet another example of what a fabulous hypocritical prick Y. is since he refused to make any effort to help A. move a mere month ago. Regardless, A. was planning on helping Y. move and so K. volunteered to join them, it would be a chance for A. and K. to hang out with Y. and his girlfriend, one of those couples events with which I have no experience. Y.'s girlfriend gave K. directions to Y.'s place.
The story goes a little something like this: the directions were flawed and K. ended up lost in DC (I know how that is). She called up Y. and sought further aid getting to his house. Instead of helping her, Y. defended his own girlfriend's directions (he never admits that he is wrong and, it appears, extends this privilege to his girlfriend's mistakes as well). When K. became exasperated with him, Y. essentially called her stupid and told her not to bother coming at all. This story, albeit third hand, is completely in line with Y.'s character. So, that was the last anyone heard from K. A. arrived at Y.'s house to learn that his girlfriend would probably not be coming because Y. called her stupid. A. was understandibly annoyed. Particularly, when he found that she was no longer answering her phone.
So, I received a call, while doing my dishes, from a thoroughly enraged A., convinced that Y. had succeeded in driving K. away. A. was fuming like I have never seen him before. He has built so much hope around this relationship that he desperately paranoid that somehow he or someone else will fuck it up for him. He said he had decided to rally the forces of Boy Bünd. He wanted to make me an offer: he would kill S. for me if I would kill Y. for him. I pointed out that Boy Bünd was never intended to be utilized for such nefarious and self-serving matters. Then, while rinsing out my black stoneware bowls, I carefully walked him through the elements of his overreaction. The issue was between Y. and K., involving A. in no way whatsoever (except that he happens to be friends with both). K. was not answering her phone because she was pissed at Y., not because she had any reason to be pissed with A. If indeed this somehow turned into a relationship breaker between her and A., then she was a complete psycho and no one he should have ever dated in the first place.
My cold detachment seemed to do the trick. So, we made plans for Boy Bünd to gather for the purposes of seeing Undercover Brother instead of conspiring to commit murder. And, having seen Undercover Brother and legitimately found it highly amusing, I feel comfortable stating that we made the right choice.
Before the movie, however, we were joined by M., V.'s girlfriend. We all picked through a stack of books in the back of V.'s car that he intended to give to charity. I grabbed an Escher Pop-Up book, a couple Abnormal Psychology texts, and a textbook on Logic (I have a strange fetish for college textbooks). We then headed off to grab a pre-cinema dinner. It turns out that Saturday was the four-year anniversary of V. and M.'s first meeting. They chose to celebrate this at, of all places, Generous George's Positive Pizza and Pasta Place.
I had not been to that particular restaurant since the awkward termination of my one and only relationship some three weeks ago. For reasons that are not entirely clear to me, I alerted my companions to this fact. I suspect I do things like that, encourage avoidable drama, because I think it will make for a more interesting evening. I am sure that, regardless of whether I made my fellow diners aware of my discomfort, I would have ended up quietly sitting and reliving the events that took place there, which is exactly what I did. As though thoroughly intent on mocking me, the Fates chose to place two obviously gay men (one clad in unacceptibly pink running shorts) at the very table where S. broke up with me. I was fairly distant throughout most of the dinner.
"Please," M. said, wearying of my moping, "it's only [S.]!"
At that moment, I wanted to retort: "Yeah, cunt. And you are completely in love with [V.]. Defend yourself." Instead I explained that regardless of who I was in a relationship with, there was still a lot of awkwardness and unpleasant feelings associated with the locale in which I had previously sat in complete silence for a half-hour, unable to eat my food lest I vomit all over my sudden ex-boyfriend.
Things perked up by the meal's end though. I began embarassing everyone by singing along to Chris Isaac's Wicked Game (when in doubt, default to making other people uncomfortable). We left, saw the film, and then ended up sitting around in a viciously humid livingroom. A. was talking about girlfriends with M. (by early evening, he had heard back from K. and indeed everything was alright... she simply did not want him to witness her when she was angry). V. was chatting about the nature of a consumerist oligarchy with L. I was attempting to blow up balloons within balloons, but the contained balloon kept popping from the extreme pressure.
So, I suppose that's one way to spend your Saturday.