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My day in SMS.

December 16, 2013

Today I sent TLTL various text messages.

Here’s your Soundtrack:

You’re welcome.

I told him I’m upset about the condom incident, but I didn’t share MTIA’s name. He has been trying to drag out of me for days exactly what has been bothering me.
“I got used,” I said. “Again. I thought I was more than friends with someone, that I just didn’t pay attention to the boundaries. Or really, there were no boundaries, but I thought we’d end up together. I didn’t know he was sleeping with someone else.” The fact that I told him the identity was irrelevant surely points the finger at someone he knows, though, and it’s not too far a leap from there to knowing it’s MTIA, which I’m pretty sure he suspected anyway. Still, before asking who it was, he asked, “It wasn’t me, was it?”
Twig: No, we’re cool. Why? Who else are you sleeping with?
TLTL: Hahaha. I haven’t been! That’s why I didn’t think it was me, but felt I should ask.
Twig: What, in case I’m bat shit insane and make up seeing used condoms?? No, my dear, this was a very real (and very used) condom. TLTL, I know this means you’re fucking someone other than me. Don’t play coy with me, you ass.
Twig: Nah, you and I are okay. I’m not sure what the hell you and I are actually doing, but I’m okay with that.
TLTL: Well, maybe you need to walk away from this person before it gets any more toxic for you.
Twig: And your interest in this is purely platonic, I’m sure…
It doesn’t escape my notice that he says nothing about him and me, nothing about whatever it is he and I are doing, which, is clearly just fucking away the loneliness.

A snippet of conversation a little later:
Twig: The funny thing is that you are the only person I’ve spoken to in days, excepting one text from my mother… an no one has noticed. I am grateful for you support. I am not in a good headspace.
Twig: But I feel stupid for saying that. Disregard. Just know I am thankful and grateful. Everything is fine. Headspace. Everything.
TLTL: Tuesday… We are hanging out, faggot.
Twig: Faggot.
(Because, you know, “faggot” is a perfectly acceptable term of endearment. The French call each other “my little flea.” My friends and I call each other “faggot.” Gay, straight, male, female… all a bunch of faggots. I wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Then, A few hours later than later, I texted him again.
Call this: My family is sort of not-all-right in the head, Exhibit A.
Twig: Fuuuuuuuuuccccccckkk…
Twig: I think someone else in my family just died.
Twig: Or it was my dad’s cat.
Twig: I’m hazy on the details clearly.
TLTL: What???
Twig: I’m in a meeting and my dad won’t tell me via text. So I know it’s death. I just don’t know who. So I’m guessing the cat. I expect he’d have been a bit more diplomatic if a human friend or family  member had just died.
TLTL: Oh geeze.
(A few minutes pass; I talk to my father on the phone.)
Twig: You remember my psychotic drunk uncle, right?
TLTL: Your “butter wouldn’t melt” uncle? Hell yeah!!
(This is in reference to a Paul McCartney song from 1971 the my uncle used to sing and drive everyone crazy. When he sang it to TLTL, TLTL burst out laughing. “Holy shit! I love that song!” My family suggested I dump TLTL on the spot. The psychotic drunk uncle did a lot over many decades to incur the family’s collective wrath. Anyone with common interests was the object of considerable suspicion as a result.)
Twig: Yeah. It was him. Dead. Poof…
TLTL: Oh my goodness, are you alright?
Twig: I can’t take another effing death. That’s THREE in my family since August, plus my friend’s heroin overdose and subsequent death. Haven’t I fulfilled my goddamn death quota for the year? Yeah, I’m sort of out of emotion.
TLTL: What happened?
Twig: I’m not real sure, but I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t kill him, so that’s good. I’ll have to remember to ask them directly, though, just to make sure double check.
TLTL: Seriously, no clue?
Twig: They’re doing an autopsy tomorrow. Might have been a heart attack. Might have been hitting his head in a drunken stupor.
TLTL: Geeze. Can I do anything?
Twig: No. Thank you, but no.

Finally, before the silence set in:
TLTL: How are you feeling?
Twig: Eh.
TLTL: Can I do anything?
TLTL: I wish I could help.
Twig: Everything is bullshit. Don’t sweat it. It’s not for you to clean up after my emotions or insanity.
TLTL: Yeah, but… I want to.
Twig: Oh, NOW you freaking want to? Do you realize that YOU are a HUGE part of why I say things like what I’m about to say?! I can’t fucking depend on ANYONE. That’s sweet. I can’t put that responsibility on anyone but me, though. And when I say I can’t, I mean I can’t, not I won’t. I can’t trust anyone, not you. Not MTIA. NO ONE. I’m on my own now, see??? I don’t effing NEED you, TLTL. I have no TRUST left. I will NEVER depend on you again. I will never be such a dumbass again.
TLTL: I’m here to help.
Twig: Thank you. Everything is fine, though.
TLTL: You are a horrible liar.
Twig: No. Everything is fine. Nothing I can do to change anything, so it’s not worth worrying about.

And the rest has been silence.

TLTL only wants me when I’m broken. Then he runs away saying I’ve ruined the relationship with my physical (and/or mental) health. He’s done his good deed, and now gets to whine about how hard it was for him to take care of me. No. Effing. Way. I don’t care if I can’t walk. I will drag myself across the floor on my elbows before I ask him for help again. And, anyway, I can mostly walk again now. I can stand for more than two minutes at a time.

I’m a paragon of good health.

I can survive perfectly well without human interaction beyond the basic necessities of doctors, commerce, etc.

A third day passes without a word from MTIA.

Maybe he meant for me to find the condom, which is really quite shitty a thing to do. If that’s the case, then dropping him like a bad habit right this second will have been the smartest decision I may have ever made. Otherwise, he’s just sort of a slutty idiot who can’t keep it in his pants. I say this out of hurt, of course. He’s not stupid, and he’s hot. I can’t blame him for having a healthy sexual appetite. But I’m not going to be another notch on the bedpost. I still believe in love and monogamy (Faggot. Yeah, I know.). I’d rather be lonely than get used. He didn’t do anything wrong, but it’s still shitty. And it was shitty for me to sleep with TLTL, to make him my backup plan.

I should have NEVER spoken to MTIA.
I should have NEVER gone back to TLTL.

I hope they just forget I ever existed. I hope that TLTL doesn’t go fishing for information from MTIA while they’re out tonight.

Just tell me, MTIA…. why can’t you let yourself fall in love? You save the artwork I make for you – even the senseless doodles on bar napkins; you hang them on your walls. I know you like me. You are being incredibly stupid. You are so busy being hurt that you can’t see when someone legitimately loves you. At the end of the day, I may not deserve more than you, but I’m going to demand it anyway. I’d rather be alone than continue loving someone who is incapable of letting himself  be loved and love in return.

This could only have ever ended badly.

I am alone. And I’m going to stay that way. I need nothing. I need no one. Please forget me. I put my phone back in airplane mode, close my laptop, and watch hockey.

When I wake up in the morning, there are two new text messages, neither from MTIA. Both are, unsurprisingly, from TLTL.
TLTL: Are you awake?
TLTL: You are awesome. Goodnight.
Twig: And exactly how many drinks did you have before deciding to text me this? There’s nothing I can write back without being cynical, so I say nothing.

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