Hey guys, it's Jen.
We've already discussed the most traumatic breakup I ever had (that was six months long) but the worst breakup I ever had came right after that, when I was on the rebound… actually after being assaulted. This was the first guy that I allowed to experience my delicate body since my assault, and this is how it ended.
I was trying to think of a name for this guy, and I wanted to call him Schmedium, because, well, that was the shirt size he wore, but it was definitely not the one that should have been prescribed to him. But also, I want to call him Flops, because he was probably the only man I ever let inside me who wore flip-flops with shorts.
(No, that's not true! Oh, why? Why did I do this to myself?)
Anyway, I remember that his roommate was named Mike, so we'll just call him Mike's Roommate. I never interacted with Mike, I just only remember that was his name. It's an easy name to remember. You never forget a Mike, you know what I mean? I, in fact, would still remember what that guy looks like to this day, because he reminded me of a Keebler elf dressed in, like, Boston sports clothing.
The day that Mike's roommate broke up with me, he invited me to lunch at a sandwich shop in, well, neither of our neighborhoods. It was a neighborhood that I worked in a lot, and it was not a neighborhood that he lived in, but I guess he thought it would be a nice day.
This would have been our fifth or sixth date. We had actually gone on dates to dinner and events, and I have met his friends. It would have been the time at which things were getting serious, and his birthday was coming up. I don't know what it is about me meeting guys right before their birthdays or some other event that makes them consider where they are in their life… But god, what kind of stepping stone am I?
He took me to get a sandwich at Mendocino— You know, I used to want to make up names for things to avoid getting sued or giving away too much information. Mendocino is a chain fresh place, if you don't know it. It's fine, it's not my favorite. People out here fucking love it, I think it's okay. When we went to the strip mall, I was like, oh, sushi! and then he did not take me to sushi, he took me to Mendocino.
Anyway, while we were waiting in line for our food, I squinted at a guy who walked past, because I thought he was a client.
Mike's Roommate, the guy I was on a date with, turned and was like, oh, really? Insinuating that I was checking the guy out? Which— first of all, I said no, I was looking at his hair, because that's how I recognized him in the first place, is I thought I recognized him by his hair. And second of all, I can't fucking see! I'm squinting because I can't see, I'm not squinting out of quizzical perversity.
That's not the first time I've been told that. I feel like that's just projection, though, because I've also been told to stop glaring at people across the room. And really, I'm just trying to fucking look around and focus my eyeballs, okay? If I'm not wearing glasses, then I can't see. (And honestly, if I'm wearing sunglasses, I still can't see because none of them are prescription.) I just can't stand when people insinuate that I'm into somebody by a look. I don't put like, check him out! on my face. That's just fucking stupid. That's just fucking weird projection. I hate that. Anyway.
Because we'd been on a few dates that ended in sex, like, by the nature of it, I expected that after we had lunch, we were going to go back to his house and bang it out. It was [x2] hot out, so I was a little bit annoyed when he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. But also, I like walks.
I like walks, but it was hot out. And we walked the wrong way. If you look at the map, the strip mall that we were at is across from the water— and I'm not wearing shoes for walking, I'm wearing a pair of loafers that cut into my feet regardless of what I was doing. (Because I didn't think I would be upright.)
I don't remember how long we walked in the wrong direction, but eventually he says, Do you want to turn around? There's supposed to be a park here, and I think we went the wrong way. Otherwise, you're going down the utility path where all of the boat houses are, instead of to the the pretty park and bike path, and shade and all that stuff.
So we turned and we went back to the corner…
I don't remember if he ended things with me first, or asked me to go for a drink. But those two things happened while we were standing on the corner waiting for a lift.
I don't remember exactly what he said, and I guess I couldn't even say breaking up with, because things weren't serious. But he demoted me from somebody he was inside of regularly, to somebody that he was going to keep at an arm's distance.
And I said, Oh, have you met someone? That would have been the best answer, instead of him just choosing not to be with me, you know what I mean? It's just, making that decision on your own: Boo! Meeting somebody more impressive than me: Alright, good for you.
And he said, No, it's not that. And I was like, Then what is it? And he said, I just don't know where I'm gonna be in the next few years. And I said, Okay, so you're gonna stop fucking me now? Because you don't know about the next few years. Like, come on, man, are you sure there's not somebody else?
He clarified that— his family concrete business somewhere in the Carolinas where he's from, some small town, I don't know— Apparently, they're the barons of it. He was called to take over, like some Secession type shit. (I guess, I don't know. I've never actually seen that show.) He, you know, I guess had a lot of adulting to think about. And I still don't know how that meant that he had to stop fucking me.
It's also… people who don't know what to do with their careers are so gross. I don't know if I should pursue improv, or go to law school. Neither, obviously, because you don't know which one you want. And those are two— that's so stupid. But I didn't want to tell him what to do, I didn't want to give him any advice. Because I didn't care that much about the outcome, I guess.
And maybe that's why, maybe that's another reason why he had to break it off at the getting serious point, is because he realized that I wasn't as serious, perhaps as he wanted somebody to be? But it's really hard to be serious about somebody who can't decide between pursuing improv and law school. The choices of white men from rich families in small towns, I swear…
And I told him, well, this is so awkward, because honestly, I thought we were gonna fuck after lunch. He asked if I wanted to get a drink. And I said, Okay, because I thought maybe we were cool. Like maybe I was just being demoted to buddy? From fuck buddy? You know, I was— I'm one of the rare people who is, who would be completely fine with that. (If only any fucking guy could act right.) Somebody on TikTok, somebody once asked me: You can't be friends with any exes, even people you dated casually? And I said, No, because you break up for a reason. But also, they end up doing something to piss me off.
At the time, I didn't really elaborate on examples, because none came to mind. But I knew it was all true! I knew it's all these dumb motherfuckers.
Anyway, so he asked me for a drink. And I was like, Sure, we're cool. We're cool. Let's go. So I was like, Where do you want to go? And he said his, his neighborhood regular. And I said, cool, let's go. I had been there before, I had met his friends. I liked the place, we played pool. And I think trivia there that time they, I had impressed his friends then, his bartender friend and all with my smartness.
Which was great because Mike's Roommate and I initially met playing trivia at my local regular, which is where I meet every man. Where I've met every man, even though I swore I wouldn't, after doing it the first time. And the time before that, and the time before that. I'm a regular local menace, it's horrible.
I, at one point, became a regular in a bar outside of my neighborhood, so I would stop sleeping with my neighbors. I just remembered that we met at my local regular playing trivia, but I was on a date with somebody else! Which, I guess I'll tell that story at some point too…
Anyway, back to going for a post breakup buddy drink at his local regular. His bartender friend remembered me from the time I impressed them with my trivia skills. And he started talking about Mike's Roommates upcoming birthday plans, which I was not invited to.
And I think I might've even said, Oh, I've been demoted, or something like that. And— because I remember the bartender was like, Ah man, she's smart! And I was like, yeah, motherfucker, I'm so smart.
I go to the bathroom and I just text my friend a little bit. And then when I get out of, when I walk out, the room is like, silent. And everybody kind of turns to look at me at the door.
I noticed that there's a new girl there, sitting at the other end of the bar. She has a trucker cap on, and a baseball shirt, and that kind of like, razor cut layer, flat iron hair, with her raccoon eyeliner. She looked like a fucking Riverside Avril Lavigne. (If you know, you know. And if you’re mad about it, then you are it.)
And as soon as I saw her, and as soon as I felt that tension, I thought, Oh, this is the— there is somebody else.
I just don't think that she knew about me, maybe. I'm not sure what kind of conversation occurred when I was in the bathroom. One thing that I did notice when I got out was that she and Mike's Roommate had their own language of bird tweets and pops with their mouths, which was cool. It definitely reiterated that she was the one, you know.
I even remember at one point him saying that there was a girl who, he was, she was like a sister to him. And anytime somebody says that it means they want to fuck them. But I was like, okay. He said she managed an apartment complex really far away, so I would be surprised if Riverside Avril Lavigne was also the girl who— Unless she managed an apartment complex in Riverside! Oh my god! I'm just putting it together, you guys!
After what felt like a really long time, but was probably 10 minutes, he was like, well, we're going to go soon. And I said, okay! Thinking like, I'm going to just have another drink, and then I'm probably going to take off or something.
And he was like, well… And stared at me for long enough that I realized that he wanted me to leave first, and that's what he meant by we're gonna go soon.
And I was like, okay. I finished my soda pop and I went outside to wait in front and have a cigarette, and I called a lift.
It was fucking rush hour. He took me to lunch, and then broke up with me during happy hour. And now it's rush hour because you wanted to go for that buddy drink that you didn't treat me like a buddy during. Instead, you're treating me like a crazy person because— he kept fucking leaning out the door to check and see if I was still waiting for him in the parking lot.
(You know, I mean, waiting for my fucking lift.) Which, he lived in a neighborhood that was triangle-shaped, with only one way in and one way out of the triangle of main streets, it was insane. And like, it was full fucking gridlock traffic all around this goddamn bar’s parking lot. And he kept coming out and looking at me like I'm the one who's making this fucking happen.
And it's so weird— If you're going to go soon, fucking leave. Like, what the fuck? Like why are you, what— Why are you acting like I'm fucking crazy? I'm trying to leave. And in fact, I was totally fucking cool with you. Even fucking after Riverside Avril Lavigne showed up and started making popping noises in your fucking weird bird language.
And he didn't even introduce me to her, which I also thought was rude. Like, if you're just friends with the girl that you have a secret language with, introduce me since we're also just friends. I don't know, feels that is a friendly thing to do.
And this is what I mean by no, I've never been friends with anybody I've been involved with because they all act like shit afterward, when they don't fucking have to. You said that you wanted to be friends, and then you treated me like I was a fucking crazy person. Fuck you Mike's Roommate.
[~*guitar solo*~]
That actually reminds me.
Speaking of Mike's Roommate… Ironically, I realized that the other time I was treated like a crazy person like this was this other guy named Mike, unrelated to Mike's Roommate Mike. But this guy Mike, who worked at a shitty dive bar in the neighborhood.
I had just moved here after my second husband died. I left the house in the middle of the night to throw out the garbage and I only—
One of the things that I do when I'm having a lot of problems and I can't sleep as I clean. Now that I don't live alone, I don't really do it as much. I guess I don't really have as many problems since I met my man, so I don't need to clean like that. But I used to clean overnight if I couldn't sleep.
And I just moved so I had a lot of cleaning to do. I went to throw away the garbage and, only upon reaching the dumpster area did I find out that I had grabbed the old set of my dead husband's mailbox keys only. And not only could I not throw away the garbage, I had also locked myself out of the building with no bra on. (Some really cute shoes.)
I didn't really have like a lay of the land, so I went to CVS and— it was during Corona, and they told me that I couldn't come in without a mask. And I was like, I know. Do you have one? Can I make a phone call? And they were like, no. And I was like, please. And they just said no. And I was like, fuck. Okay.
I walked to a taco truck because outdoor dining was so big at the time. I walked across the street to a taco truck… Oh my God. It was like three in the morning, the bars were closed, I think. Or maybe no indoor businesses were allowed to be open? I don't really remember. I went to a taco truck and I just walked up to the crowd of people. And I said, hi, can I use somebody's phone to call a locksmith? Because I just locked myself out of my house. I just moved here.
The one closest to me, you know, I grabbed his phone, but then I realized I didn't know what to do. Like, I didn't know who to call. Like, so, you know, we Googled on his phone. And then I also had to send my coworker a message through Instagram DMs about, you know, I am locked out of my house. I don't know what I'm going to get back in. Please tell the boss I might not come because I might still be locked out of my house or I need to go to sleep, et cetera.
Once we called the locksmith, he agreed to wait with me. We're walking up my block. And I'm like, I'm sorry, you know, but look, looking around, there's really nothing.The only thing that was around was the gas station, which I thought was closed on the inside. But my man just told me that no, it's always had an open interior 24 hours. And I was like, Oh, fuck, I could have just gone there! I didn't know. And also, it was across a four lane street. And I just didn't… You know how there's like invisible boundaries in the way that you travel? I literally don't think I've ever been to that gas station in the
five years now that I've lived here.
While this guy Mike is waiting with me for the locksmith. He's just like, you were cleaning at two in the morning? And I said, Yeah, man, I got like, you know, problems married to a dead guy, you know, like stuff's going on. Obviously, I'm not doing too well, or else I wouldn't have locked myself out.
But I realized that he was even suspicious that this wasn't my house. And it was like, I'm paying— I'm waiting for a man to break into my house. And I'm going to pay him a lot of money to do it. And you think I would do this to somebody's house that wasn't mine? And I guess I'm kind of extrapolating that maybe he thought I got kicked out? And I was just kind of like, okay, I see where he's coming from it. I don't have to worry about it because it's not the case. But it's so weird.
Like, would you guys pay money? If you were kicked out of somebody's house? Would you pay money to get back in, like in a semi legal manner? I 1000% would not! I would just call a few people I know and then we'd bust a door in or something. You know what I mean? (And honestly, now that I've done this locksmith experience, I know secrets.) I don't break into people's houses because they've kicked me out. It's just not something that has ever happened to me. The one time I was unceremoniously kicked out— I don't even mean kicked out, I was literally avoided until I was stuck in a gangway, locked out between two buildings. And then I decided Oh, this person doesn't actually want me there, but he couldn't say it!
Anyway, when I was locked out of my house:
As soon as the locksmith came, I ran upstairs to get my card to pay him, and also my keys, so that I could throw away my garbage and, you know, lock my door? When I came back with my keys, Mike was like, Oh, let's let's let's see if the key works.
And it's like, why would I not have..? If I went inside the apartment that I was paying to break into, why would I not have the correct key? Like even your theory is fucking flawed, you asshole.
But at the time, I was like, yeah, actually, let's make sure that this didn't break the door. Because the way that this man opened the door did not actually seem legal, I'm just gonna say. And he had an accent, and he wore all black, and he smelled like the finest perfume. I'm honestly not sure anything about this was not mob affiliated. But he did the job, overnight!
Fortunately, at the time I had EDD payments coming in so I could throw out $200 on my own stupidity and a fucking overnight emergency lockout, picking some idiot for protection, who thinks that I'm the one that needs to be protected against.
I wonder at one point in Mike's brain, I turned from what I actually was, as a person who needed assistance, to a potentially crazy ex-girlfriend. I realized during the getting to know you chat we were having while waiting for the locksmith, that I knew of Mike from several years prior, when he was unceremoniously end-of-night sleeping with a friend of mine, who was absolutely distraught over it.
He I guess, you know, was just one of those guys who would take her home and it didn't mean anything. Or maybe it did, it's so complicated. Why can't we just be? (Et cetera, et cetera.) (I have to stop saying et cetera.)
By the time I figured that out, he thought I was a crazy girl. And I was like, maybe you think people are crazy, because[x2] you keep them on their toes about relationships?
I swear to god, I hope my man never dies because I can't do it anymore.
[~*guitar solo*~]
Crazy Girl