Derek, Pleased To Meet Me
Even though it may have been only minutes after she stormed out of the flat, it was as though the walls almost sighed with relief around me and I thought, “Maybe I could get away with being crazy and hasty and sporadic - get away with being reckless and absent like all these girls I’m acquainted with.”
Admitting I put myself in their path is strenuous, but I’m going to try to be as honest as I can. I just can’t beat around the bush any more, it isn’t healthy. So, off she went. Huffing and puffing louder and louder as she stomped further and further towards the exit. You know what? Good riddance! Girls are all the same. Girls always take up more space than you’ve offered. I heard her pull open the door with what I’m sure was stifled frustration but was also trying to be graceful. Her smooth exit was very obviously interrupted by the swollen door, as this apartment is damp and sensitive to the rain. It’s old and characteristic and I adore it.
I mean, yeah, I suppose I strive to take care of my apartment as if it were a living breathing thing. What’s funny is that I couldn’t care less about actual living breathing things. My efforts to separate myself from my annoyances has been pretty successful, other than of course the broad who walked into my life by accident and is hopefully taking the walking out part seriously. We’ll talk on the phone soon and I’ll be nice, cool and collected. I’ll come out looking and feeling good, for sure.
I could hear her struggle with the doorknob as she tried to slam the door shut and I thought about how neat it is that wood expands when it gets moist. Girls are always complaining about cold, damp things and and never understand the science behind anything. They are constantly focused on their discomfort. Finally, I heard her lock the door behind her. Girls are passive aggressive and passive aggression is a weakness. I was sitting here on the couch in my own apartment, and she locks my door for the last time behind her. Girls are so dramatic. I should have asked for my key back. All this drama has me off my game. She probably feels like she got the last word in as she locked the door, the look of satisfaction turning to sheepish defeat. Here is the part where I should feel guilt as I imagine her sauntering out of the building. I just don’t and I’m too busy to dwell on the reason why. I know she’s trying to convince herself that I lost the game, and that I’ll soon feel a wave of sorrow overcome me when I realize she’s really gone. I’ll have you know I dislike making assumptions but I know her just enough to know that. Oh, the sorrow. Ha! ...I'll let her have it. She thinks she's making me think. I observe her efforts smugly. And, like I do with most of my interactions with her, I'll be the bigger person and let her think she has some influence on my thoughts and my attitude. Maybe, though, I will think. It might do some good, it helps drown her out when she's acting strange.
As these interactions happen more and more frequently, i've been slowly constructing a system. I have come to understand I have fairly convincing head nods and “uhuh”s. and I try my hardest to conjure up meaningful eye contact. Alas, girls always want the last word. Every fucking time. Her shrill voice is still ringing in my ears. I'll tell you, It’s almost like a demon seized her mind after just six months of dating. By that time I was already invested. Stuck. Too lazy to hurt feelings. If I had more to say, I think she would have left sooner. But I weighed out the pros and cons like the rational adult I am and sat back. I like having her around, she makes me laugh when she’s not bringing up deep meaningless shit. Playing games with persons unaware has always been an underlying trait of mine and I know how terrible that sounds but bear with me here. I'm trying to be more honest lately. Still, I don’t know why I put myself into these situations. Girls.
However, this morning I feel I am at a loss for words, or games, or nonchalant defence mechanisms. Ah hell, I don’t care. I guess I’m locked in my apartment? You really got me G. Jesus my apartment is now a complete disaster. I didn’t expect her to get physical. She must be very frustrated. Thankfully, she only destroyed the shit I could do without. Shit she brought into the house in the first place. Now I can just throw it all out with out feeling any guilt. I have an actual alert button to send up a maid, I've never used it. Theres a first for everything. What a day!
Girls like to give you an ultimatum at some point when you haven’t reacted to anything in a while. For some reason, I hope she comes back sobbing and blubbering and sees I haven’t even moved from my spot. She’ll think I haven’t even noticed. Yeah. She’ll be okay though, I always thought she was a somewhat well rounded girl, just lonely. But what girl isn’t whether their in a relationship or not. Can’t please ‘em.
I can’t help but picture the scenerio unfold. She’s probably pacing in front of the apartment making a fool of herself. If only it were raining, making it extra melodramatic. It sounds sad, and cruel, but I know she’d take a bit of pleasure in being a spectacle, damsel in distress. I imagine she’ll go to a bar nearby and get silly. Girls like to self destruct.
Well, I don’t care. I can’t care right now. Tomorrow I’ll tell the door man to not let her in anymore. 'Good riddance!' I'll say. However, if she wants to come get the rest of her things, that means she will have to ring me up.. and then I’ll have to go down there to meet her and she knows I can’t do that. Damnit, maybe this was her plan. Oh, games, games.
Girls are always trying to change who you are and make you uncomfortable with a bunch of uplifting quotes they’ve come across somewhere on social media. I can never tell if they’re trying to make me uncomfortable but I feel uncomfortable.
Speaking of shit like that, you can tell a girl is crazy when she starts hanging quotes in the bathroom like “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Hangs it right across from the toilet so you read it over and over while you’re taking a shit. But they’re just words.
I suppose I should mention that I haven’t left the apartment in twelve years. Sure, you know, I’ve been on the balcony, lots. It’s not like I shut myself in and pull the blinds or anything. You’re probably imagining piles of newspaper everywhere and a dank dusty galaxy floating gently through the house. No, it’s not like that at all. You see, I’m very stylish and I like controlled clutter. And there is no layer of fog dust anywhere. Spic and span. Theres a lot about me that I should explain and I’ll get to it.
I can see the sky better than anyone in this city. From my balcony, the cars look like insects and I can’t even see the people. Ha! They are so irrelevant. Here are the facts; I am on the 30th floor. I’ve stepped in my elevator 6 times since I’ve moved in. I even had a helicopter deliver a huge tree onto my roof top patio so I don’t feel so alienated. Just because I prefer distance from people, places and things out there doesn't mean I don’t want to be part of it all. It does make sense.
It helps me breathe better knowing I have a tree. Sometimes, I fear the oxygen those riff raffs breathe doesn’t quite reach me up here and I am afraid of suffocating. I know it sounds silly. But with the tree, I just feel better about it. I have a real interest in psychology. This is temporary. I do want to be like everyone else, in a way. I just know I’m better. And I can do things up here better than anyone can do down there.
Oh, but of course some over paid degenerate made an assumption and blamed it on miscommunication and brought me the wrong damn tree. Excuses are tiring and offensive to my intelligence. God Damn. I wanted a palm tree, because I’ve never traveled and they look tropical, but they brought me a Japanese maple. Having people in my home makes me feel dizzy so I didn't say anything. I don’t like to fuss like she does. Girls like to fuss over everything.
The leaves look like a marijuana plant and I snip the largest ones off in the late spring when they turn really green and I tuck them into the pages in my huge, heavy encyclopedias for safe keeping. I wonder if I'll ever actually open them up in the future and have a flash back to these bleak, bleak days and regret how I had gone about things. I doubt it, though. In a few years when I am ready to go outside again, I’ll just tell everyone I had a grow operation up here. It was very secret and that is why I’ve been hiding. I have planned a lot for what I will say to everyone. They’ve got to be wondering about me, no doubt.
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