Dear Thing 1, Get Bent, Love, Velma

Sigh…well, I finally got back most of my stuff from Thing 1. Not all…but most.

I know I haven’t ranted in a while. I’ve just been too happy. The new guy is fantastic, and it’s hard to work up a good rant when you’re being treated well.

However, I figured an update on the ongoing saga with Thing 1 is in order, since he acted like a complete idiot on Monday.

I got sick and fucking tired of waiting for him to get his shit together and contact me back about exchanging our stuff (I had been waiting for a couple of weeks since the last time we had talked on the phone). So, I called on Monday around lunch. He was home sick, but not too contagious, so we set things up for the exchange at his place on Monday night. Fine. Whatever.

So I get home from work, I eat a little something, and I head over.

And I pull into his driveway.

Where there is a huge honking SUV parked behind his truck.

I’m surprised and totally not surprised at the same time.

He is such a chicken shit that he had to invite over the new woman he’s dating to be there when I got there.

He knows I don’t like strangers.

He knows I really don’t like strangers in my shit.

So he invited someone I don’t know to be there while we dealt with the aftermath of 6 years.

What. A. Tool.

Not a surprise, though, since I met most of his other girlfriends that exact same way…no warning whatsoever.

Anyway, I get there and he hands me a pile of my stuff that isn’t even close to everything. Which I told him. And, of course, with the other person there, I can’t just start going through his house looking for my shit. He agreed to call me when he finds things that are mine, but I’m not holding my breath.

And of course I had to say goodbye to the dog in front of a complete fucking stranger who did not have the common decency to leave the room so I could cry and say what I needed to say to the puppers.

Leaving Thing 1 – no tears. But I loved that dog and it hurt like hell to have to say goodbye. He missed me. He was all over me from the second I got in the house.

I just keep telling myself, as do most of my friends, that I’m lucky to have gotten out. What kind of man would ask his current girlfriend to be there for that kind of situation? What kind of man would think it was appropriate to ask her? What kind of man would put someone he once called his best friend into that kind of situation?

Oh, I already answered that…he’s a complete tool.

Dear Thing 1,

I want my shit back. You are not off the hook until everything you have that belongs to me is back in my possession. Being a slob who can’t find his own shit in his own house does not absolve you of this responsibility.

And yes, Thing 1, I know exactly why you did it. You invited her over so that you wouldn’t have to have an actual conversation with me. Because if we actually talked, you might have to own up to what you did…you might actually have to face it and feel bad about it. And you invited her over so that once I left you could have someone to tell you what a horrible psycho bitch I am and pet you and love on you and tell you it isn’t your fault. Well, newsflash, it is your fault. And you’re pitiful.

Get Bent,
Velma

I’m glad to have this mostly over. I doubt he’ll ever call me that he’s “found” any of my remaining stuff, but it’s not anything I can’t live without, so no biggie. He “forgot” to return my apartment key on Monday, but I forgot about it too because I just wanted to get in, get my stuff, and get out, so we’re doing that exchange tonight on my way to the fabulous guy’s place. And then we’ll be done. Closure…it is a good thing.