[home]
[theater]
[computers]
[life]
[music]
This "journal" of sorts was submitted to be by a friend of mine. Basically this guy is a friend she made on the Internet who turned into a sort of stalker, constantly calling her and e-mailing her several times a day. She could handle it, until he showed up randomly at the airport wanting to stay with her. The following is a play-by-play of what followed. I laughed so hard I cried. Just a warning...when someone shows a little too much interest, you'd better nip that thing in the bud before it gets out of control. This is what happens when you try to be 'nice'.
Friday night, 10:20 pm
- Dick arrives at Seatac airport. I pick him up,
still under the assumption that he has enough money for the trip. We had
discussed cash earlier. However, I had promised him dinner, so I decided to
treat him to a small late night dinner rather than waiting for another night
when I could be reasonably be expected to take him somewhere nice. He does
not offer to pay for airport parking, but $2. Whatever.
Friday night, 11:00 pm
- We arrive at a small Capitol hill restaurant. He
is, um, very socially awkward. He keeps leaning as far in towards me as
possible and staring. When the food comes, he just, well, eats gross. Too
big of bites. Mouth open when chewing. Ugh. Other than that, no signs of
impending danger.
Friday night, 12:30 am
- We get home. He randomly insists on hugging me.
Not normal hugging either. Even though he is quite a bit taller than me, he
hooks his arms UNDERNEATH mine, and hugs upwards like a little kid. He
almost lifts me off the ground. I get out of the hug as fast as possible.
I agree to sit in the living room and talk for a few minutes before bed. I
make him a bed on the couch and try to get him to use a sheet so I don't
have to dry clean all my blankets afterwards. No go. He curls under the
covers, I sit in a chair across the room and talk for about 1/2 hour. I
then get up to go to bed. He asks for a good night hug. I give him the
most cursory hug I have ever given.
Friday night, 1:10 am
- I fall asleep while pretending that Will is there
holding me and protecting me.
Saturday morning, 6:25 am
- I wake up just in time to see Dick creeping
silently towards my bed. I watch him for a few seconds just in time to
realize that he is planning on jumping on my bed and loudly waking me up.
He thinks it will be cute and funny. When he gets close enough, I plant my
foot in his stomach. He pouts and looks disappointed that his joke didn't
come off. I told him I was going back to sleep. I heard him go back into
the living room and play darts.
Saturday morning 7:05 am
- Dick is back in my room. He turns my computer
on and checks his e-mail. It would have been nice if he'd asked, but I'd
rather he was on the computer than harrassing the hell out of me. I go back
to sleep.
Saturday morning, 7:20 am
- I wake up to notice that Dick has curled up
like a dog at the foot of my bed. That is, ON my bed. And he's staring at
me. As long as he's not touching me, I just go back to sleep. I am too
tired to deal with it yet.
Saturday morning, 7:30 am
- Dick has gotten up and is whining about how
bored he is. I tell him I'll be up "in a minute". I go back to sleep.
Err... TRY to go back to sleep. He keeps bugging me. I roll over and face
the wall in a vain attempt to block him out. Unforseen consequence:
rolling over creates enough space that he lies down next to me. I wake up
fast, but rather than freaking out, I just sit up and calmly tell him that
he can go take his shower first. He says, "I took one three hours ago!". I
sighed, and said, "Well, then I'll go take mine. I crawled around him and
got in the shower.
Saturday morning, 8:15 am
- I ran out of hot water.
Saturday morning, 8:20 am
- I come out of the bathroom, completely dressed.
I ask Dick what he wants to do today. He yells, "wrestle!" and charges me.
I fend him off. He charges again. I punch him in the face. No joke. I
pretend it was an accident. He charges again. I grab him by the back of
the neck, push his face into the floor and tell him that he is not acting
appropriately and that I do not want to wrestle. He pouts and looks sad.
Saturday morning, 8:45 am
- I make breakfast. Even not yet comprehending
that he has NO money, I still can't afford to go out for every meal, even if
we go Dutch. I make sausages and toast. He whines that there's no "belly",
which I finally comprehend is his way of saying "jelly" in babytalk. I get
him some jelly that is over 2 years old and pray that it has some horrible
mold that causes instant death in it.
Saturday morning, 9:20 am
- He tries to wrestle again. He pouts and make
whiny noises when I just absolutely refuse.
Saturday morning, 9:50 am
- I decide that we'll go for a drive. That sounds
safe, "touristy" enough to satisfy a visitor, and relaxing for me. I could
really, REALLY use a long drive about now. Plus, it's sunny. I look up the
ferry schedules, thinking that might be fun.
Saturday morning, 9:55 am
- We get in the car and leave. We BARELY have
enough time to make the Bremerton ferry. I'm still convinced we won't make
it.
Saturday morning, 10:15 am
- We are the LAST car to make it in the ferry
before it leaves. The ticket lady actually had to call and hold it for a
few seconds so we could drive on. Dick is absolutely amazed that there are
boats that hold cars. He gets giddy like a kid. The ferry ride is actually
amazingly uneventful.
Saturday morning, 11:15 am
- We drive off the ferry. I have no idea where
I'm going, but I just want to find something slightly less "citylike" and
start driving. I head west. He all of a sudden apologizes for the morning,
and says that he is really sorry he was so aggressive physically. I try to
brush it off, "it's OK, just be more careful"... etc. etc. etc. He starts
crying. He asks me how I can still respect him when he doesn't respect
himself. I avoid that one. He is having a pity-party. I tell him it's OK.
He leans his head on my shoulder. I wait a respectful moment or two before
brushing it off. I just drive and point out the Olympic mountains. They're
very pretty today.
Saturday afternoon, 1:00 pm
- We've been driving awhile, things have been
going well, and the landscape is just gorgeous. He has calmed down and is
doing much better. We pull off into the "Red Barn Restaurant" for lunch.
It is about as "quaint" as humanly possible. The water glasses are jam jars,
etc. We are the ONLY customers. It is honestly in the middle of nowhere.
He gallantly announces, "I've got this one". I let him, since, afterall,
I've paid for everything so far. The meal comes to about $15 for the two of
us. He pays cash.
Saturday afternoon, 3:00 pm
- After reminding him that I have a date that
night, we head back to the ferry. The ride is mostly uneventful... until we
get back in the car. He finds a cassette under a seat somewhere and puts it
in the player. It is titled "The Mellow 60s". It makes him cry profusely.
Saturday afternoon, 4:30 pm
- I am trying to find him a hotel for the night,
still under the assumption that he has budgeted for it and can afford it.
He says, "under $50 would be nice". I go on the internet, and pick up the
phone, starting to make phone calls. He runs in, and says, "Let's just go.
I don't want to make any phone calls." He looks really upset, and I realize
what's up. The Will thing is killing him. I figure I'll just drive him to
a dump on Aurora, so I let it go.
Saturday afternoon, 4:35 pm
- The waterworks REALLY start. He throws a
crying fit. "I hate this. I hate being here. This sucks." etc. etc. etc.
I let him go for a bit. I keep looking at the clock. Will had pledged that
he would come over earlier this night, so we would have more time to spend
together. I want a few hours to primp (and detox from Dick). It's nearly
5:00 pm, which would only give me 2 hours... if he were already gone. So
I'm starting to stress about time. I finally just go over, get his shoes,
and tell him to put them on. I maneuver him into the car.
Saturday afternoon, 5:20 pm
- We drive to Aurora, and I pull into the first
cheap motor inn I find. We walk in, and they say, "$52 a night". I ask him
if that's OK. He says that he can afford it, but it will wipe him out
financially. I do some math, and figure I can feed him for a few days.
Driving for another 20 minutes to save $10 just isn't worth it at this
stage. (I found out later I could have saved $20 had I driven another 2
minutes, but whatever. It just wasn't worth the effort at the time.) We
start to fill out the paperwork, and he pulls out a wad of cash, and then
says, "I need to get something out of the car." I follow him out and he
admits he has $25 on him. He claims, "If I hadn't picked up lunch, I'd be
OK." I do some math, add $25 to $15 and realize he would have STILL been
short of the hotel room. We had talked about this specifically before he
came. I decide to not get mad.
Saturday afternoon, 5:40 pm
- I am standing at an ATM waiting for cash to
pop out. He looks at my pin # as I enter it, and recites it back to me
proudly. I hadn't anticipated that he would look THAT closely, so I hadn't
bothered really covering it. I'm pretty sure he's just showing off, and
that I'm safe, but it's just another example of his absolute social
cluelessness. The ATM is NOT working. The little Arab in the Qwicky-Mart
finally tells me that the machine is out of order, but that he forgot to put
a sign out.
Saturday afternoon, 5:55 pm
- I FINALLY get some cash (it never occurred to
me to just give the hotel lady my debit card). I take him to the hotel. He
cries as he's filling out the form. I leave him with the $8 change from the
$60 cash I had, in addition to the $25 dollars he already had. I want him
to be OK in case of an emergency. There is a Jack in the Box and a Krispy
Kreme within walking distance, so I know he won't starve. I figure he'll
spend the $8 on food but have most of the $25 left. There is still a
thought in my head somewhere that I might get paid back, and leaving him
with an even amount of debt seems to make sense.
Saturday afternoon, 6:15 pm
- I get home. I take a quick shower and then
e-mail you my "crisis" e-mail. Will is coming very soon (he actually calls
at 6:40 to let me know he'll be there by 7:00), and I'm not even dressed, so
I don't have ANY time to e-mail you details. I feel a little badly later
for leaving you hanging, but I wanted you to know I hadn't forgotten you,
but I had no time to let you know the details of the situation.
Saturday 7:00 pm - Sunday 10:45 am
- Will time is amazing. I forget Dick
is even here. Of course... in order to do that, I have to not quite tell
Will that he's in town. I just can't deal with Dick's issues and Will's
issues at the same time. I wanted to tell him (remember, Dick hadn't
announced he was coming until about 20 hours before he arrived. I hadn't
had a chance to tell Will before this.) But I just couldn't ruin my one
Dick free evening by discussing Dick with Will. I felt a little badly,
but um, really not that badly. Because once I saw Will, and kissed him, and
realized how happy I was with him, all guilt went away. I was dealing with
a problem, and there was NO part of me, physically or emotionally, that was
being unfaithful to Will. I just wasn't sure I was capable of explaining
that at the moment. Men in general are too paranoid and jealous, and I just
couldn't trust that Will would be an exception, at least not without ANOTHER
long icky conversation first. Not in the state that I was in.
Sunday morning, 11:00
- I had told Dick I would pick him up at noon, so I
took some time to e-mail you.
Sunday morning, 11:30
- I go to get Dick. He isn't in his room. I wait,
and he comes back at noon with a card and a flower, apologizing profusely
for the day before. I find out that between food, the card, the flowers, a
bag of socks, and a phone card to call his mommy, he has $3 left. Total.
For the next three days. The gesture of the flowers and card suddenly
becomes much less significant.
Sunday afternoon, 12:15 pm
- Knowing that I am expected to entertain him for the rest of the afternoon/evening, I think that we can save a bit of money by getting fast food for lunch, and then maybe getting something nicer for dinner. I suggest fast food, and he counter-suggests Mr. Bill's diner. I don't object, because I remember that Mr. Bill's average entree is about $5, which is almost identical to a "value meal" at Wendy's or Jack in the Box.
Sunday afternoon, 1:15 pm
- The waitress at "Mr. Bill's Diner" calls us a cute couple.
Sunday afternoon, 1:30 pm
- We leave. I pay.
Sunday afternoon, 1:45 pm
- We drive downtown. He wants to see Safeco field. I love doing free stuff. He informs me that he has to be back at 4:00 because his mommy is going to pay for him to watch Wrestlemania on the internet. I am a tad miffed that she gave him her credit card, but only permission to use it to buy wrestling pay per view. Um... how about a hotel room? But.... whatever.
Sunday afternoon, 4:05 pm
- We drive back to my apartment. Safeco field was, um, free. And closed. We walked the perimeter, and that made him happy. Good. It's 4:00 and he hasn't cried yet today. VERY good. We talk on the way back about how it's a better day. I lie and say that yesterday wasn't all that bad.
Sunday afternoon, 4:15 pm
- We get back to my apartment, and he says he needs to call his mommy to get the credit card number. I say that my phone card is out of cash and I was going to wait until I got paid on Monday to buy another one. I had ASSUMED he had a phone card. He does, but it's all used up. I start to go to 7-11 to buy a new phone card anyway. He calls her collect. Phew.
Sunday afternoon, 4:25 pm
- I am VERY tired. I worked all week, got 5 hours of sleep Friday night, a bit over 7 hours of sleep Saturday night... but have been dealing with Dick and all that stress for almost two days. I feel like I could sleep standing up. But since I have a couch, I lie down and pull a blanket up while Dick is getting the credit card info from his mommy.
Sunday afternoon, 4:28 pm
- Dick rushes me. He runs and takes a flying leap towards the couch, and I stop him by putting my foot (with my shoe still on) in his stomach. Low. Almost to the groin. You'd think it would have hurt. But he doesn't seem to notice. It takes awhile to really fend him off. I sit up. He says that it just isn't fair, because whenever he sees me lying down, looking sleepy, he wants to either join me or make me stop so he won't want to join me. Frig. Now if I so much as yawn or lean back, I'm 'leading him on'.
Sunday afternoon, 4:40 pm
- Wrestlemania XX is streaming onto my computer. I sit down and watch politely for a few minutes, but am REALLY hoping that he will get distracted enough to just watch for a few hours and let me escape to the living room where I can lie down without being assaulted. I try several times, but ALWAYS, within about 2 or 3 minutes, he comes out of the bedroom and I have to sit up and pretend to be wide awake.
Sunday evening, 6:45 pm
- I ask him when Wrestlemania ends. He says 8:00. I finally tell him that he either has to go in the bedroom, close the door, and let me take a nap, or we have to leave. I say I am incapable of staying awake while in my apartment with Wrestlemania being my only choice of entertainment. He thinks for a few minutes... and turns off Wrestlemania. I put my shoes on and get my car keys.
Sunday evening, 7:00 pm
- I drive to Jillian's. I need something active to keep me awake. I ask him whether he'd rather play video games or pool. He asks: "Is pool free?" When I say no, he says, "Video games". I appreciate that he at least thought about money. I put $20 in the machine and get a big handful of tokens. We'll leave when they're gone.
Sunday evening, 7:20 pm
- I win three games of "Cruisin' Exotica" in a row.
Sunday evening, 7:35 pm
- I win the "Crazy Taxi" challenge.
Sunday evening, 7:50 pm
- I win our game of NFL Blast 2005 by sacking his quarterback over and over and over.
Sunday evening, 8:10 pm
- I win the Arctic Racer game. The seat vibrates so much I nearly get off.
Sunday evening, 8:20 pm
- I win the WaterSki game.
Sunday evening, 8:40 pm
- I win Air Hockey by a score of 7 to 3.
Sunday evening, 8:50 pm
- He looks like he's about to cry. I look desperately for a game that I might be really bad at.
Sunday evening, 9:05 pm
- We play the basketball game. I throw the ball everywhere BUT at the hoop. He wins 12 to 8. That's twelve POINTS, not twelve baskets. We had like 2 minutes and the hoop is about 5 feet away. He smiles big, and we play twice more. It's killing me, but I keep throwing the ball nowhere near the hoop.
Sunday evening, 9:30 pm
- We play another driving game. Off Road something or other. I intentionally bang into EVERY rail and drive off the road as often as possible. I am still ahead of him. As the finish line appears, I am getting desperate. I finally turn around and drive BACKWARDS. He wins.
Sunday evening, 9:45 pm
- We play some virtual reality shooting game. There's two machines, but they're not linked. With my head in the thingy, I can't see his score, so forget to "throw" it. He legitimately beats me. I feel better.
Sunday evening, 10:00 pm
- We FINALLY run out of tokens. As we leave, he admits that he wanted to play video games instead of pool because he's no good at pool and didn't want to be embarrassed.
Sunday evening, 10:05 pm
- I tell him that I am exhausted and that I'm going to go home and go to sleep. He complains, "What about dinner?!?!" I realize that we haven't eaten since 1:00, and he actually does have a point. I'm just too tired to be hungry. So I say, "I'm sorry. I forgot. We'll run through a drive through." He began to whine. "I thought we'd get sit-down. I want sit-down. I thought we'd have another hour left in the evening!". I am exhausted, and sick of spending money, so I decide to put my foot down on this one. I feel like I'm training a spoiled child. He whines the entire drive down the freeway. I ask, "McDonald's, Wendy's or Taco Bell." He refuses to answer me. After driving for five or six minutes in silence, I finally decide that I can compromise. I say, "Would you feel better if we went inside the fast food restaurant and ate it like sit-down?" That doesn't seem to make him feel any better. He finally says, "Well, we can get drive-thru, but you can't just go in your room and shut the door. You have to sit down and eat with me." I agree.
Sunday night, 10:20 pm
- I pull into the McDonald's parking lot, heading towards the drive-thru. He screams, "McDonald's! You can't be serious. You've got to be kidding me! I have veto power, and I refuse to eat at McDonald's!" I sigh, and pull out of the parking lot. I am too tired to fight, and Wendy's is only a few blocks away. I explain, "You wouldn't give me an answer, and I got in a McNugget mood." I pull into the street. He concedes. "OK. We can go to McDonald's." I don't reply or turn around. "Let's go to McDonald's!" He gets louder. "Turn around, you want McDonald's, you should GET McDonald's!" When again, I don't even show any signs of hearing him, he grabs the car shift knob and pops the car into reverse. In the middle of the road. Luckily there are no other cars in sight and we were only going about 10 mph. It freaks me out anyway. I stop the car, turn to him and scream, "DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN. THAT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. YOU COULD SERIOUSLY DAMAGE THE ENGINE OF MY CAR AND COST ME OVER $3000 TO FIX IT." etc. etc. etc. He got quiet. "I will NEVER do that again." He claimed he was now scared to touch ANYTHING in the car. Good.
Sunday night, 10:30 pm
- We pull into the Wendy's drive-thru. He orders a Spicy Chicken, a chili with cheese, and a large frosty. I order a small fries and a Coke. Honestly, it's because I am too tired to be hungry. But if he thinks that I'm trying to save money, all the better. As we drive off, he says that he needs more "serious talk". He says that he's been better behaved to today than yesterday, and he feels calmer, and thinks its been a much better day. I nod and say nothing. So he gets insecure. "Don't you think today is better?" I sense a SpecialTalk™ coming up. Once it becomes unavoidable, I buckle to the pressure. I confess that I am very tired and very stressed out. I say that it's the pressure of dealing with him in addition to job stress, relationship stress and money stress. I don't connect the dots between them, and he is too dense to figure it out. Oh well. He responds, and the SpecialTalk™ begins.
Sunday night, 10:45 pm
- We pull into the driveway. For some reason, I just at that moment happened to ask, "What are you afraid of?" I don't remember why, but it seemed to fit at the time. However, he gets really quiet, starts SHAKING and crying. I am starting to feel badly for him again. We go inside and, per agreement, I sit in the living room and start eating my french fries. He is still shaking, but has stopped crying. He insists on turning out all the lights (flashbacks to Chuck) in order for us to talk. He only cries two or three more times. Before I leave for bed, I ask him what he is planning on doing the next day. I try to explain things like bus stops, etc. He asks, "Can I go to a couple of movies? Matinees? I bet I can keep it at around $12." I don't even know how to reply.
Sunday night, 1:00 am
- I finally make it to bed.
Monday morning, 6:00 am
- The alarm goes off.
Monday morning, 6:30 am
- I get out of bed and take a shower.
Monday morning, 7:10 am
- I leave a key to my apartment, a $20 bill, and six quarters (for the bus) on the table. I wake Dick up enough to tell him this, and remind him that there had better be change from the $20 left over when I get back. I REALLY start to feel like a parent.
Monday morning, 7:45 am
- I get my paycheck. I feel a bit better.
Monday afternoon, 4:05 pm
- I deposit my paycheck.
Monday afternoon, 4:10 pm
- I pull into the parking space behind my apartment and take a deep breath. I say a quick prayer that Dick will be out and that I might be able to grab a nap.
Monday afternoon, 4:11 pm
- No such luck. He is sitting on the couch with a blanket over his head. I am obviously supposed to tackle him and rip off the blanket or something. I say, "Hello. How was your day?" He doesn't reply. He's still waiting for me to respond to his blanket over the head trick. I say, "Did you do anything fun?" He still doesn't reply. I go in my room, shut the door and lie down.
Monday afternoon, 4:14 pm
- He gives up. "Oh, OK" he whines, and comes into my room. I get out of bed as FAST as possible, so he doesn't take it as an invitation to cuddle. He laughs, "Ha Ha! You can't lie down! But I can!" And he lies in my bed and hugs my pillows to his chest. Note to self: Use extra laundry soap next time. He continues. "Eww! You and Will fucked in this bed, huh?" I shake my head no. He screams, "Ew! Ew! Ew! On the couch?" I shake my head again, and say, "not in a long time". I have a pleasant flashback that Dick doesn't need to know about. I change the subject. "What did you do today?"
Monday afternoon, 4:15 pm
- Dick says, "I called my mommy and we talked for a long time, and then I went for a long walk and got lost but I found my way back. Speaking of..." and then he pulls out a huge wad of cash. His mommy had wired him cash, and had insisted that he pay me back. In the words of Dick's mommy, "You are that Jane-girl's problem. And she should not have to pay for her problem." I was apparently supposed to look horrified and exclaim, "You're not a problem!" Oops. I guess I forgot. He gives me $200. In cash. A $100 bill, a $50, two $20s and a $10. That is far more than I've paid for in terms of money, but doesn't approach the bill in terms of pain and suffering.
Monday afternoon, 4:45 pm
- We leave. I don't know where we're going, or what we're going to do. I just know that it is VERY dangerous to be in the apartment alone with him. He behaves better in the car or in public. He is, of course, insisting on paying for EVERYTHING from here on out. He has no concept of what money is or where it comes from. I bet that big wad of cash is gone in two days and he has to call mommy for more.
Monday afternoon, 5:00 pm
- We decide to eat, as he hasn't had lunch. He suggests "Japanese food". I think of sushi and tempura and sitting cross legged on the floor and say that I don't know very many Japanese places, and am not very fond of Japanese food to start with. He is OK with that, but asks why. I say that it's the seafood that really turns me off. Then he realizes he's been misunderstood. He wants teriyaki. With strips of chicken and rice and a cabbage salad. We go to Nasai.
Monday afternoon, 5:30 pm
- He throws a piece of chicken at me with his chopsticks. It hits me on the eyelid. Thank goodness for reflexes, or I'd be blind right now. He giggles.
Monday evening, 6:05 pm
- We leave. We need to find something else to do, and we've already eaten. I ask him if he's ever bowled. He says, "Yes. Alot." I ask him if he's very good. He says, "Yeah, I'm pretty good." I joke that I've broken 100 about twice in my life. He says, "100? I've gotten over 200 a whole bunch of times. I'd say my average is about 165." Ugh. He would HAVE to be a bowling prodigy. I consider whether it's worth the absolute lack of competition for me to bowl my normal 85 to 90, while he throws 7 to 8 strikes per game. The lack of anything better to do, along with me feeling the need to placate his ego, leads me to the bowling alley.
Monday evening, 6:20 pm
- We rent shoes. He throws a fit about wearing the shoes, though. He claims he always wears street shoes. I seem to be in full-blown parent mode, because I give him a speech about respecting the floors in the bowling alley. He puts on the bowling shoes.
Monday evening, 6:25 pm
- We go to find bowling balls. >From past experience, I realize that I do best with about a 12-lb ball. The 12-lb balls are dark green with no swirls. I go to find Dick. He is whining, "Don't they have any regulation bowling balls?" Hmm. I actually hadn't seen any 16-lb balls, come to think of it. I suggest a 14-lb ball. It is light green with swirls. He jokes that he likes the maroon ball with swirls better. It's only 10-lbs, and I tease him about my 12 pounder. He takes the light green ball.
Monday evening, 6:30 pm
- We put our names in the computer.
Monday evening, 6:32 pm
- He rolls the first ball of the evening. It's a gutterball. He has the oddest bowling "stance". He walks up to the line, stands there, feet about shoulder width apart and swings the ball back and forth two or three times before releasing it. He pouts and looks really sad. He gets the ball from the return and throws an identical second gutter ball. I say, "Are you used to the lighter ball?" He nods. I go get his maroon swirly ball for him.
Monday evening, 6:34 pm
- I walk up to the line and bowl a strike. I have no idea how I did it.
Monday evening, 6:40 pm
- He has now thrown eight consecutive gutterballs. I have no idea what to say. He says, "I think the lanes were shorter at the other bowling alley." I agree that that must have been the case. He seriously looks like he's going to cry again, and I am SICK of his crying. I tell him to go slow and to remember how he used to do it. He steps up again and bowls it very slowly and very straight... and knocks down 6 pins. He's almost as relieved as I am.
Monday evening, 8:30 pm
- I have won three games in a row, and have never broken 90. It's time to go, methinks. We stop in the arcade and play a few games of Wrestle-something-or-other. I make sure he wins at least half the games. I get accused of "stopping pushing buttons", but I pretend it was, um, a strategy?
Monday evening, 8:50 pm
- We end up at a video store. We end up renting Misery. I had never seen it, and he wants to watch a scary movie. He's hoping that I'll hold his hand and clutch him and do other girl horror movie things during it. Whatever.
Monday evening, 9:20 pm
- We end up in a QFC. He wants some snacks for the movie. He decides he wants garlic bread and wine. Whatever. He find the most expensive bottle of wine on the shelf, and POINTS OUT that it's the most expensive wine on the shelf. I ask him if he's trying to show off. He nods emphatically. I argue him down a few dollars. Does he realize that money doesn't grow on trees and that if you spend it, it's gone? We still end up with a top notch bottle of merlot and $2.99 worth of garlic bread.
Monday evening, 9:45 pm
- We get home. I put the garlic bread in the oven, pour the wine, etc.
Monday night, 10:00 pm
- We finally START the movie. He lies on the couch, I sit on the floor. It's probably better that way. I'd fall asleep if I were allowed to lie down. The movie is pretty good. Scary? Sure. But kind of in a reassuring way. In a "see, things could actually be worse Jane, you could be lame and stuck in a house with Dick and his needles and sledgehammars and barbeques." The movie seems oddly appropriate, but still manages to make me feel better.
Monday night, 10:50 pm
- Dick is asleep. He is facing the back of the couch and isn't watching the movie at all.
Monday night, 11:35 pm
- I consider which I would rather do, see the end of the movie, or get out of the room with Dick 20 minutes early. I turn off the computer and the lights. Dick wakes up and starts yelling, but I just keep turning out the lights and say, "Goodnight".
Monday night, 11:40 pm
- I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. "Jane!" I hear from my room. I go into the living room. "I'm mad that you didn't listen to what I wanted. I want to watch the end of the movie. I feel like you don't respect my opinions." Hmm. Argue? Or just give up and watch the movie? I turn the lights back on and start the movie back up.
Monday night, midnight
- I finally get to bed.
Tuesday morning, 6:30 am
- The alarm goes off.
Tuesday morning, 7:30 am
- I get up and take a shower.
Tuesday morning, 8:05 am
- I leave for work.
Tuesday afternoon, 3:00 pm
- I call Will and tell him that I won't be available to talk that night. I say I have a great story, but don't tell him what it is.
Tuesday afternoon, 5:05 pm
- I arrive back at the apartment. Dick's flight leaves at 10:20, and I have never been this anxious to go to the airport.
