Days with Elsie continued to be perfect. He was the consummate boyfriend. If I had ordered a man from a catalogue he would have been Elsie. I pinched myself frequently, this was just so different from the man I had been thrilled to get a phone call a week from and he now called several times a day. We spent our free time together, he just made life so much better. Nights with Elsie became perfect too.
One Tuesday evening, we had planned a dinner and a watching of a special on PBS, or some channel, about the Doors. Wednesday was Elsie's day off so Tuesday night he usually stayed at my house so I could get up just in time to roll to work and he could sleep in and go home when he was ready. I just couldn't believe how fortunate I was to be this content. When I got home from work on Tuesday afternoon I started dinner, Elsie called to say he had a couple of stops to make when he got off and then he would be over.
Perfect. Really perfect. Only he didn't show up. Or call. Or answer his phone at home or at work. Was he dead? Was there some tragic accident on the way here? Did he accidentally fall into some other woman's pants? I didn't hear from him that night, or the next day, but there wasn't much he could do to avoid my calling him at work on Thursday. "Oh, you're not dead?, that might be too bad". I said cause I am soooo funny. Oh he had been soooo busy at work, he'd be in touch.
Of course, he wasn't in touch. I found myself back in the damn pit. If he thought I was going away quietly he really had not been paying attention. That blue eyed bastard. Why didn't he just leave me alone in the first place? I couldn't have made myself clearer. I did not want to be screwed with. The least he could do was call and tell me the truth.
One evening Zelda suggested that we get out of the house and go see Frankie. Frank was out of the marriage and Frankie was rooming a woman she had met at an outreach program. Frankie always helps people, she is a nurturer. The woman was "real nice", she'd had a drug problem but was "clean". I didn't pay much attention. I was mentally killing Elsie over and over and making him beg for mercy.
It was good to see Frankie. We heard about the new roommate but she wasn't there. "We were out a week or so ago and ran into Elsie. She's been at his house since then", said Frankie like she was a little impressed. I think the next thing I saw was fire burning in my brain. That son of a bitch. Zelda explained that Elsie and I had been dating until apparently the exact moment he met her roommate. Grrrrrr. We visited a while and Frankie suggested an old fashioned "Happy Hour" at her house that weekend! Great idea! I would so be there, Elsie and the roommate would be there and then I could kill him. Perfect. I needed to remember to get a phone number for an attorney before the weekend.
I got dressed with great care, you know, look good, a little slutty and make him sorry. Some things are just basic. I met the roommate first, Elsie was on his way from work. Her name, as I recall, was Sleazy Whore Dog, but I will just call her Dog. I am not usually judgemental, (BIG lie), but this person looked like she had just stepped off some NASTY biker's ride, (those of you who ride, please note I said NASTY, this doesn't mean you), cleaned her tattoos, sharpened her claws and hit herself up with meth. She reeked of sleaze, (my humble opinion). She introduced herself, she obviously knew who I was. I commented on her fingernails, the kind that are real and curl under like witches claws. "Wow, those are some nails". "Yes", she said, "I wanted to play guitar but I decided anyone can do that. Only a few people can grow nails like these". Yeah, she was going to die. Elsie walked in and smiled at Dog and then saw me. He wasn't smiling now, he looked a little green. GOOD.
I busied myself saying "hi" to people I hadn't seen in a long time and some I hadn't met. There were several handsome, single men there and I seemed very popular. Something about new meat and testosterone. They could all bite me. I was fun and bubbly and Elsie stayed on the other side of the room. I walked into the kitchen and found myself alone for a minute. I heard him come in, "I hope we can be friends", he offered, "We can't". I said. "We could have been if you had the BALLS to call me and tell me you had found A SLEAZY WHORE with the F*ING SOLAR SYSTEM TATTOOED ON HER CHEST. "She might hear you", he said. "GOOD, invite her in here, I will be more than happy to explain that she is a sleazy whore, I bet she already knows that. And that will give me the opportunity to tell her that you are a bastard. She probably hasn't figured that out yet. Just remember, we are done, over, don't call me, do not come to MY house, don't even think my name, oh and you might consider SHOTS". I had some anger issues but I felt better. I am really not a fun person to piss off, or so I've been told. I enjoyed this particular tantrum.
Oddly, a man I had grown up with, one of the boys that Bridget had decided was a teenage delinquent based on his tennis shoes and rolled up jeans when we were kids, was there. I had gone to high school with him for a year. He graduated the year I started. He was always nice to me and called me by the correct name. This man now looked like a statue. A gorgeous, chiseled, yummy, cowboy statue. Bart. We talked and I learned he lived just a few streets away from my house, much like when we were kids. "Then you will have to come over to our house next weekend for our happy hour". Note to self, remember to tell Zelda we were having a happy hour.
Oh yeah, I'm hot...oh yeah, I got IT....Oh yeah, he showed up with a date.
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