No D-Bag, I’m not going to sleep with you Friday, Jun 18 2010 

Have we established that BT is insecure? Check. That BT is possessive? Check. A huge d-bag? READ ON.

My visit (from the prior post) concluded, and BT and I fell out of touch. 7 months later, he calls and after indulging in a lighthearted conversation about our respective lives, BT addressed the reason for his call:

Due to a recent promotion and more flexible work schedule, he wanted to fly out and visit me.

I’m not going to lie. His proposition was kind of flattering. The feeling of “YAY I’M SO SPECIAL SOME RANDOM GUY WHOM I RANDOMLY MET IN SOME RANDOM BAR SOME 7 RANDOM MONTHS AGO STILL RANDOMLY THINKS ABOUT ME AND WANTS TO VISIT ME RANDOMLY, z.O.M.G.!” however, was ephemeral.

Shortly after discussing the logistics, BT suggested I fly out to visit him instead. I mulled seriously over this, but ultimately decided that it was not the best fiscal time for me to do so. After informing BT of said unfortunate circumstance, he offered to help me out with the plane tickets. I declined because…becausebecause it did not feel right. A lot of back and forth ensued and I finally agreed when BT offeredahempersistentlyinsisted on “helping me out” again. We agreed to split the tickets.

The entire situation blows up while we’re on the phone hashing out the deets, flight itinerary carnage and all:

Me: “Hey, so I spoke with My Friend and she’s cool with me staying at her place when I’m there.”

BT: “Wait………………Why won’t you be staying with me?”

Me: “Uh…I think it would be safer that way…”

Alright, so I suffered from a bout of word vomit myself, but I swear BT made it worse.

BT: “Safer? What do you mean?”

Me: “You know what I mean.”

BT: “No, I don’t. Please tell me.” He knew.

Me: “BT. You KNOW what I mean! In any case, we’ll be hanging out the entire time since the purpose of my trip is to see you.”

BT: “No, let’s talk about this. We need to address this to clear up any misunderstandings.”

Me: “I. don’t. want. to. address. this. There’s nothing to address.”

BT: “We have to address this, so we know what expectations we have of one another.”

Me: “I can’t believe you’re making me talk about this. Are you serious?” I’m turning pink from embarrassment.

BT: “Yes, I think it would be best to bring everything to the table – open communication.”

Me: “You want open communication? Fine. Expectations? Well here’s one, so you’re perfectly clear…I am not going to sleep with you.”

Two minutes of pregnant silence.

BT:“……………………………okay……………well………………there……………are……………other……

things…………we…….can……do……besides……that……”

Me:

BT: “……like……other……stuff…..Aw man, there’s no way of saying this without it sounding all bad…”

Me: “Go ahead. You forced me to say stuff. It’s your turn now.”

BT: “Well, like, I mean, we’re both at very unpredictable times in our lives right now. You’re going to law school in State X and I’m going to business school in State Y, so I can’t guarantee anything. All I can do is suggest that we have fun for a few days. With this trip, if I were to personally invest, I can’t help but have expectations.”

Me: “What kind of expectations?”

BT: “I can’t say.”

Me: “You started this whole thing.”

BT: “It’d be hard for me to keep from ripping your clothes off.”

Me: Choke-y gurgling noise…………“Alright, whatever. Just……whatever. I guess it’s not a big deal, so alright, I’ll stay with you.” Wishing the conversation was over at this point. Wishing that I hung up when I had the chance. Re-playing this ridiculous exchange in my head.

BT: “Hooray, yippee!” (I totally made that up, insert whatever noise/word is used to express male jubilation)

When it came down to booking my flight…

Me: face turning fuchsia b/c I’m embarrassed to confirm. “So, we’re splitting the tickets?”

BT: “You really can’t afford it? Like you can’t put it on your credit card, and pay it off within the next few months? The interest won’t be that bad. I should know. I work in a bank and I do it all the time.”

so serious, Red!

Me: RED. Face is a dangerous shade of red. “No, I told you. I can’t.”

BT: “Well, see, if you paid for your own tickets, you can do whatever you want. You can hang out with me, your friends, whomever. There’d be no expectations and no pressure. But if I were to invest…”

His sentence literally trailed off. As in he was douchey enough to make me talk about expectations, douchey enough to insinuate that he had expectations, and douchey enough to “pretend to not be a douche” by not verbalizing that if he were to invest, there would be pressure.

Me:

BT: “It’s getting late. Why don’t you think about it and let’s touch base tomorrow.”

Me: “kbye.” Asshole.

The cherry on top? I had this conversation days….DAYS before my LSAT (law school admission test). High-strung, stressed out, anxious, pimple-ridden, depressed, neurotic, and about to lose my marbles, this conversation happened to me days before THE determining factor to my future. BT knew it too. He knew the exact date of the test. He knew how much and how hard I’d been prepping. And he subjected me to this appallingly and outrageously obnoxious conversation.

Gets better. Post-LSAT and LSAT-bash thrown in my honor (thanks N, you the best!), BT and I continue to talk to each other about everything but the trip. We don’t talk trip, and trip goes ker-plunk. Friendship goes SPLAT shortly thereafter.

I’m riding the bus one night, seriously tipsy (a fantastic idea. Think I’m joking? I’m not.) when shit chunks hit the fan. BT and I were texting when I asked if he knew Friend (his friend from the previous post that was “hitting” on me à la BT’s delusions) was going to visit my state the following week-end.

BT: “Yeah, wonder if he’ll try to hook up with you again. Are you trying to hint that I should come and visit you?”

FURIOUS. I was FURIOUS, partially because my veins were bloody pumped full of rosé.

Me: “Careful now, your insecurities are showing. Don’t blame your friend just because your plan to pay for sex didn’t fly.”

I calmly deleted his number, shut off my phone, went home, signed onto Facebook, and un-friended him. Later that night, I turned my phone back on. There were three text messages.

1. “What???”

2. “Wait, are you serious??”

3. “Are you mad because I didn’t pay for your ticket? I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but we’re definitely not friends anymore.”

Fine by me – we weren’t friends for a long time comin’. But I had to write him back, because he was WRONG and he needed to know it. I could not be misinterpreted by a BOOR of all things, so I wrote him the following e-mail :

Here’s my opinion. You can consider it if you want.

I am not mad that you didn’t pay for my ticket. I am disappointed in your lack of credibility and in the reason behind your offer to split the tickets.

I would like to remind you that I never asked you for anything. You initially called asking if you could come visit me. When the idea evolved into visiting you, and I expressed how the trip was not financially feasible, you offered to help me out on two different occasions. I never asked you to pay for my flight. If you’re not going to do something, don’t offer to as it strips a person of their credibility. A trip was your idea, so it should have been your responsibility to see it through. Instead, it was all a means to no end and thus, a waste of time.

It is still not the fact that you didn’t pay for my ticket that is disappointing, but why you offered to. You rescinded your offer when I told you I would not fulfill certain expectations. This indicates to me that you were only willing to split the tickets because you assumed your expectations would be fulfilled. With that, you attached a monetary value to the purpose of the trip, and it became too “mail-order girlfriend” for me. And FYI, if we split the ticket, we would’ve been equal. No one would owe anyone. If anything, I would bear the added hassle of flying there and back.

It is also incredibly insulting to know what you think of me as a person, assuming that I was angry because you didn’t shell out the bucks for the trip. I didn’t even ask for your help, and you only offered with strings attached. You subjected me to such an embarrassing conversation by reducing any significance of the trip in bringing a vulgar topic onto the table and using it like a bargaining chip.

Your text came out of nowhere and sounded bitter. I merely asked if you knew Friend would be visiting, and out came this hook up business, which sounds like you don’t trust your friend. Your questioning of whether I was hinting that you should come out to see me was accusatory, and made me sound manipulative and insinuating something when I wasn’t. I also believe you knew the answer to that question, and I just wasn’t up for a scrimmage of coy remarks that would lead nowhere.

I wish you the best.

Some of you may wonder what the big deal is. Nothing. I don’t believe in dalliances with people I barely know and trust is all.

I expect more – sing it, Aretha – RESPECT. Since BT was literally seeking more bang for his buck, I don’t understand why he didn’t cruise local street corners for it. 150 dollars and a nice piece of ass? BAM! That oughta do the trick mighty satisfactorily.

Me? I’m not a mail-order anything. So, “hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back no mo no mo no mo no mo.” I’m not the goods born out of a transaction. I’m not a service. I’m not a vending machine. And I most certainly will not deliver myself just because someone paid for shipping. Gents, worthy ladies are to be earned, not bought. ‘Nuff said. And, I WILL SURVIVE.

hi Aretha. I love you.

Insecure Mister Monday, Jun 7 2010 

Have you ever had two guys fight over you? How about a guy who thought his friend was flirting with you (see: overly protective, possessive, delusional, insecure, I could go on), and went all passive-aggressive on his bro? Obviously with my happy-go-lucky self, I got the latter  sitch. Did I forget to mention that the guy was not my boyfriend and that I’d only met him a few days prior? Sigh. True story.

I met BT while visiting some out-of-state besties, and we hit it off. After hanging out with our freshly formed (my buds + his buds) group a few times, BT may or may not have, at some point, kissed me, to which I may or may not have, slammed a passenger car door in his face and run away. It happens.

In any case, I guess he liked putting up with some chase because he’d responded positively to my coquette little text: “you have soft lips mister!”

“Trouble” starts a-brewin’ however, when our group reunites at a pub about an hour later. The skinny: I was sitting between BT and his friend when BT left for the restroom. During this time, Friend and I got into an engaging conversation, which continued for a little while when BT returned. After, BT sort of tugs on Friend’s shoulder, pulls out his phone, and shows him something without saying a word. Friend’s facial expression evolves from confusion to comprehension to mild irritation to indifference before glancing over at me. He then decided to join our other friends’ conversation.

Me to BT: “What did you show him?”

BT shows me the text I sent him.

Me: “Why did you show that to him?????”

BT: “Because he was hitting on you. I want him to know that you’re mine.”

I was instantly annoyed. Unfortunately, I didn’t show it because I still liked BT and those buttery, fluttery feelings got in the damn way of my practical judgment. But since BT and I had an epic falling out over another issue that’ll be addressed next post, I have no qualms ripping this apart:

  1. Delusional much? Yes. His friend was NOT hitting on me. We had the most benignly platonic conversation on the face of the earth and that’s as far as I’m going to go to “justify” that.
  2. Possessive much? Oui. If BT was my husband, he would not own me. If BT was my boyfriend, he would not own me. Since BT was neither husband nor boyfriend, he doubly did not own me. I may be claimed (as in taken off the market), but remember that I decide whether or not person-in-question can claim me. Conclusion? No one will ever exercise ownership of yours truly, because I am not an object.
  3. Passive Aggressive much? Si. But that’s not my problem. If BT wants to be a little bitch (wouldn’t that be the guy’s term for it?) to his homeboy, fine. It would’ve however, been in his best interest not to because I only learned that he has jealousy, trust, and perception issues. Dangerous.
  4. Sooo, is Friend no longer allowed to talk to me? Am I no longer allowed to talk to him? Well lookie here, I’LL TALK TO WHOMEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE. I can only imagine what BT’s rules entail when you’re in an actual relationship with him…as I mentioned earlier, I’d only known him a few days and “you’re mine” was already thrown around seriously.
  5. I’m a rather private person, aside from airing my bad dating beeswax on the internet. This is why I was irritated that BT showed a personal text of mine to his friend. And using it to snuff out imaginary competition? What poor form.
  6. Finally, everyone already knew BT liked me and that the feeling was mutual, including his friend. So really, why did he feel the need to pummel the point through by parading his cell phone about like some trophy? Right, right, right…Insecure, delusional, yadda yadda.

In conclusion, don’t be crazy.