Gallery Piece

To recap and fill in some more details, while we were having our little meet ups, I had warned her to delete the texts in her phone and the msn logs. She dismissed the idea of her boyfriend checking those out, and while I like being right as much as the next guy...

So. After two or three weeks of silence, she texts me, saying she's bored and on vacation with her boyfriend and the guy's friends. We exchanged a few like this, I tried cutting it short, and thought that was that, when the next day she messages me that the holiday was all cool until the Man snooped her phone.

Great.

Next thing I know, my phone's ringing and there's this pissed off tone on the other end saying 'Oi mate, could ya spare ten minutes fer me? We could go on a ride or somethin'!'.

A ride. JOY.

Either way, I'm not the one to chicken out, so I told him that maybe in the evening (I had a date in the afternoon), tried calming him down, but he was furious (even though I knew that there was nothing incriminating in those messages) and we arranged the place and time.

To sum up my afternoon, I had a date with a girl who talked a lot about random things of no interest to me, and her anecdotes of various spending sprees made my inner Marx weep, so I sailed off into the cold, cold night to meet a guy who has every right to beat me to a pulp, knows nothing in particular, of unknown size, and driving a blue, beat-down car with a pink front hood because that was the only thing he could afford after an accident.

Scared shitless, I wasn't.

As a safety measure though, I did try calling my roommate first as a reinforcement, but as he didn't answer, my best mate accompanied me and hung around the area in case things get nasty. It was funny, he was pumping himself up, but from his point of view, the whole incident was a disappointment.

From mine, it's still a tough call between sad and hilarious.

You see, I was sitting at some stairs, waiting for Mr. Pissed Off to show up, when my phone rang.

"Yo, where are you?"
"Here, where I said I'd be."
"Cool. We're going for a ride."
"We're not going for a ride."
"Yes we are."
"No, we're not. Come here and let's talk."
"...okay."

And then he comes. I see him approaching, baseball cap, cigarette in his left, looking around, his other hand clenched in a fist. His hair is like mine, long enough that he needs to do something every once in a while or be rendered blind. He stands before me, legs still moving, all pumped up and furious. He blows smoke in my face.

"You are >NAMEWrong answer?->Smack' or 'Stick me in the trunk and flatten me in another part of the city'. Then he's asking a bunch of questions, going into silly details about where, when, who was there, yadda yadda.

I am a good liar and can craft amazingly believable cover stories. But when he's asking about things that I don't even know the truth about because I can't remember them? Aw, fuck.

Anyway, for the first time in my life I lied to someone who I agreed with (on being angry) and was disgusted by his girlfriends behaviour (the hypocrisy is staggering, thank you), but went on and denied everything. My reasons for this?

Because they might be dumb, but damn, they love each other. And with the chick's cop-out, I thought it's better if they get through this bump. That, and I was pitying the guy, and was doing my best to restrain the urge of telling him that 'I licked your girl's nipples'. Mainly because we would have had to beat him up after that.

So, to sum up the next forty minutes, I gave him an explanation of how his girlfriend is hot, most guys think so, and so did I, but we did nothing and I gave up after seeing that this isn't going anywhere. Tried my best to fill out the dumb details he was thirsting for.

'Alright' he said after a long while, sitting and smoking calmly by this time 'today's your lucky day, I'm feeling extra-merciful. But I'm still gonna call her here.'
'Why?'
'To see if your stories match.'

Oh. Okay.

Following a phone call and some commanding words, he says that they're coming.

'They?'
'Yeah. Said she's with someone. Bet it's that dumbfuck Jameson.'
'You don't like her friends either do you?'
'That's an understatement.'

Ah, a glance of spiritual kinship!

I joke that maybe he is going to get to beat up someone today and we can all rejoice. I stopped taking that shit seriously after the point he told me that his problem is that he has God-syndrome.

The girl and 'Jameson' arrived, and he started throwing some questions (more dumb details) towards his girlfriend. Jameson, as predicted, couldn't shut the fuck up, but after his first try at a snarky remark, we both dissed him.

'You shut the fuck up doughnut boy!' said the boyfriend.
'Right, my balls are at stake here!' I exclaimed.

So Jameson fucked off, and a great silence fell upon us.

'So... can I go now? I'm kind of thirsty.'
'Wait. Still need to match the stories.'
'Oh, cool! Should I start?'
'Go ahead.'

Then I told the girl everything I told her boyfriend.

'Right' she said convincingly 'that's what happened! See, nothing to worry about!'

And then he let me go.

And then we laughed. And I got drunk.

May they bare profoundly dumb children together.

(Gallery Piece is by Of Montreal, a great indie pop band, just to contrast all the punk and to illustrate the silliness of the shit I need to go through.)