After giving my room a good spring cleaning, I began rearranging a few things in a way that would look more aesthetically pleasing. I picked up my old jewelry music box, one of my most favorite possessions, given to me by my first boyfriend early in high school. He was one of those guys who was really really good at giving sentimental and meaningful gifts. I opened the box and the music began to play while I looked through all of the little mementos I kept inside. A christmas tree ornament with our initials engraved on it. A silver charm from a necklace my step grama gave me in Spain. A rose petal from my corsage I wore to prom. An unfaithful promise ring. An un-charming charm bracelet. Two shells from the first shot gun I've ever fired; a WWII russian beast that threw me back almost off my feet. A few movie ticket stubs. A few notes. The tiffany necklace my mom gave me for graduation. The tiffany necklace my boyfriend gave me for my 21st birthday. And then I realized something was missing. Something that didn't deserve to be in there in the first place, but I had just been too torn as to what I should do with it. I'm not sure if I could even say I dated him. Worthy of being mentioned in Psychotic Letters From Men, he is someone I have absolutely no desire to ever see again. With good reason.
It was last year and my boyfriend and I were on the rocks. I'd escape to my best friend's house for refuge when the arguments became unbearable. I'd bring along with me movies, a drawing pad, and beer while my best friend, whom I will call "Elle" from now on, and her then boyfriend would cheer me up. They'd always have friends over so it was a nice distraction. Both of them had a favorite tattoo artist who would come over and give them awesome deals on their many tattoos. I had met him years before and he seemed very decent. He had a long term girlfriend, was into classic cars; owning one himself, and he presented himself well.
I should have noticed the shadyness of their tattoo artist friend from the beginning. I learned he had some what recently broken up with his girlfriend, and he began spending even more time with Elle's boyfriend, who soon began to express an irritation in him because he'd decline invitations until he found out that I was going to be there. At first, the romantic in me was touched by these little attentions, and after the final break up with my boyfriend, I caved, my heart demanding a distraction to keep my mind from going insane. We first started hanging out with the promise of him teaching me how to tattoo, which he never did. It was fun at first. Just going out to movies, getting late coffee and talking, just as close friends. Although I wasn't attracted to him physically at all, I allowed a relationship to develop, after I found out my ex began dating a complete piece of trash, but I would have done anything to keep my mind off who I was really in love with.
That is when I began to notice something a little bizarre. I had ignored the early warning signs: the fact that he was about 6 years older than me, still lived with his mother, and was most likely a virgin. But when the after-shock of my post-breakup freak out passed over I began to open my eyes a little bit. We weren't even dating when he bought me a necklace that he wanted me to wear all the time. He found out I had a facebook in addition to a myspace and demanded to know if it was true. Incredulously, I answered in the affirmative, and he accused me of having a lover via that social network when he read some witty banter in comment form between a good friend and myself. Another huge hint that he didn't get out much because it was quoted straight from ANCHORMAN. After that he continued to break up with me multiple times a week, showing up in tears late in the night to apologize and out of pity I would take him back. He'd beg me to let him tattoo me, throwing out the crappiest tattoo ideas, even after my dad threatened him, saying that if he ever put anything on me there would be trouble. (Love you dad.) He'd demand that I lose contact with my long time, strictly platonic male friends, who had been a huge help in distracting me from my break up with gym, beach, and party invites. After following the advice of many a worried friend and my freaked-out sisters, I began to slowly break off contact with him. I started declining invites; not answering his calls or texts. I figured a normal guy could take a hint. [[*forshadowing*]]
My dad has a huge party at his house once a year, where all his buddies from elementary school, middle school, and high school come to our house (remember we have 5 bedrooms, 2 living rooms, and outdoor sofas on our back patio... so we can technically sleep about 15 comfortably without blowing up mattresses) for a reunion-extravaganza. They even make t-shirts and pitch in for kegs. Oh yeah, and I'm not allowed to be there, which is fine with me. The boyfriend and I had begun to patch things up, so I was staying at his house while this debauchery was occurring at my place of residence when I realized I didn't bring enough clothes with me. No problem, I thought. I'll just head over in the early afternoon, when they'll all be awake or hopefully out surfing or motorcycle riding. As I pulled up to my house, I froze. HIS car was there. I slowly walked up to the door and opened it. As I did HE let out a disgusting belch while holding a beer, shirtless. I ran upstairs. WHAT THE HELL. My mind screamed. I grabbed the needed goods and went downstairs.
"Oh hey!" he smiled nonchalantly.
"What are you doing here??" I demanded through my teeth.
"Oh they invited me in."
Nobody was talking to him. Half of the guys were gone including my dad. So I just left. I couldn't believe it. Later on my dad would tell me that he just showed up, obviously looking for me, and invited himself in. He asked if he could join them and some guys felt bad so they said ok. He showed up for three days after that. The final day my dad told him he couldn't come in. I was mortified. My boyfriend was pissed. While my boyfriend and I fell in love all over again, hewould continue to barrage me with calls and texts. I ended up leaving the state to get away from him. New York. When I came home, I resumed my life and the boyfriend and I started to officially date again. Elle eventually told me that crazy found out I came home and was confused to why I hadn't contacted him to tell him this. I sure can pick 'em.
A month later the boyfriend and I attended a house party. It was huge and we had to park blocks away. While walking up to the front door the boyfriend laughed.
"You won't believe who I see in the window."
"Nooooo..." I moaned. Although I couldn't see who he had seen, my gut knew. We walked in and half the party screamed my boyfriend's name and ran over. (I'm sure this fueled the fire.) The place was filled with his old friends so I hi-tailed it to the bathroom to think about what I was going to do if crazy came over. I took a deep breath and walked out.
He was gone. Apparently the boyfriend had actually gone as far as saying "Hey what's up" to the creep and shaking his hand. I love my boyfriend. That action caused crazy to run for it, we have no idea where, but about an hour into the party while I was in the bathroom, the owner of the house came over to the bf and said, while apologizing profusely, that a good friend of his was very uncomfortable with him there and that he had to ask him to leave. The bf obliged and told me the news. Laughing hysterically, we grabbed our friends and headed to another good friend's place for an after party. Before we could pour our first drink, the bf began receiving text messages:
"It's a good thing you left, because my friend was going to kick your ass."
The bf didn't respond.
"Yeah, I've seen him fight before, he would have knocked you out."
The bf and I started laughing, but he continued to receive text messages similar to that. So he called the unknown number.
"...Helllo??" said a little voice.
"Have you been texting me?" Asked the bf.
"No...?" she sounded confused.
"Did you put your phone down by any chance?"
"I let my friend borrow it because they couldn't find their phone."
"Ah, well you might want to make sure you know who what kind of person you're giving it to. Have a good night."
Thank goodness it ended there. All I can say to that is, what a little b*tch.
I put the box back on my dresser and texted the bf.
"Hey, it really doesn't matter but I'm really curious, did you take anything out of my music box?" I knew he didn't, he's not that type of person, but just incase I had I thought I'd ask. Fortunately for me, he's the type that can't lie. It's cute really, I can ask him anything, and I'll see that mini battle going on in his head as he looks embarrassed and admits all I want to know.
"No... is something wrong?"
"Not at all actually, it's just that something I've been meaning to get rid of sort of got rid of itself."
"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"
"Oh, well, good :o)"
I love a happy ending :o)