Confesh-sesh #9: Only a masochist could love such a narcissist
I am a complete Star Wars nerd. In fact, if I had to choose the perfect generation to live in, the 80’s is definitely it. Everything about the 80’s, the clothes, the movies, the music… Totally retro! Gimme some shoulder pads, leg warmers, a big scrunchie and some Bruce Springsteen and I’m in.
I like to think of myself as a kickass Jedi knight, light saber blazing hot and the Force being with me and shit but where the fuck is my Yoda for love? Come on Jedi Master, show me how to get a hold on my emotions.
“Love you mustn’t. Ruin you, it will.”
My favorite Yoda quote of all time is, “Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.”-Revenge of the Sith. This speaks to me on so many levels. Like shit bitch. Let go of what you fear to lose. If I’m afraid of losing it, how do I let it go? Isn’t that the exact reason I don’t want to let it go? Isn’t that why it’s so hard? Because I don’t want to lose it?
Wise Master Yoda has a point though, when you hold on too tightly you end up losing exactly what you were afraid of losing anyway…
* * * *
Wow, that potato picture keeps blinking at me and is freaking me out. I’m just tryna type bro.
* * * *
Mr A tried his best to convince me that he wasn’t the man everyone said he was. He did everything to prove himself to me. It really didn’t take that much convincing because I was already smitten. The more he pushed me to let him in, the more I felt my guard slipping until it was completely down, something I’d never done before.
Something you should NEVER do.
I was completely under his spell.
* * * *
Mr A and I dove head first into our relationship. There was nothing quite like ‘taking it slow’, we fast tracked from day one. Effortlessly. There was no conscious thinking, everything just pretty much happened. There was a magnetic pull between us, wherever he was, I was and wherever I was, he was. All of our decisions, thoughts, actions, everything was centered around each other.
* * * *
I chose to go back to where he worked for my upcoming rotation. You know what that meant? You guessed it, I had my own apartment again. Mr A and I practically began living together. Conjoined was an understatement. We lived together, we worked together and we definitely played together.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms every night and would somehow end up wrapped around each other. I mean like actual pretzels. We were nauseating even in sleep. He’d wake up mid sleep and pull me closer to him, barely cognizant and whisper, “I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Then he’d go right back to sleep. My heart would skip 20 beats,I, myself half asleep, feeling a smile break across my tired lips. I wish I could explain to you what that felt like. Absolute zen. It was like medicine to quieten all my negative thoughts, reassurance that he didn’t even know he was giving. It was peace. If anyone asked me to describe what ‘content’ felt like, that was it. I often wondered if he knew he did that.
* * * *
Mr A and I would lie in bed talking for hours. What we even spoke about I don’t know, all I know is that we’d both be in stitches. He also had a habit of dutch oven-ing me when I least expected it. There was sudden silence and then I was trapped under the covers fighting for life. Our friendship blossomed which made our relationship so much easier. At the start anyway…
* * * *
We really were nauseating. There was nothing we didn’t do together. I would sit in the bathroom when he was taking a shit because we clearly didn’t talk enough before. I wish that was a hyperbole of some sort. It’s not. If that wasn’t bad enough, when I couldn’t be there, he’d send me pictures… We had issues.
* * * *
Mr A would take me everywhere he went. I found myself going on runs to sell a car, to look at a new car to purchase, to a million stores to look at rims and tyres, to multiple garages, to car parts stores, you name it. I now knew about the different densities of oil, selenoids, how to change an intercooler, how to change a tyre (not very well I might add because when we took it for a test drive a bolt was still loose *facepalm*), how to change brake pads, what to do when your turbo blows, what a dyno is, what happens when someone tunes your car like shit and most importantly, how to wash a car.
I’m the girliest girl ever, I don’t even have to tell you that I had no interest in any of this. I don’t need to tell you that this is not how I wanted to spend my spare time. His head would be down that bonnet every chance he got, while I sat eagerly waiting to be his assistant. I wish I could tell you that was a sexual pun, it’s not. I started enjoying this because it was something that made him so happy. Who cares if it bored me out of my mind? I was hands down ready to learn about clutches too.
There are very few people in my life I’ve been comfortable driving with. Mr A drove like a mad man. No ifs or buts. As my nieces used to say, ‘the motorbike car’. I think any normal person who drove with him would fear for their life. Me? For some reason, I was comfortable. It never bothered me that when he drove the skin left my face, or the way he’d cut through traffic or the way he’d come so close to someone who gave him a bad drive. I encouraged his shit, go faster, that man trying to show off on you, race him.
* * * *
Inevitably, the day came when I had to face his mom again. This time I was prepared. I wasn’t going to be awkward, I wasn’t going to be in his room. I was ready to win her over.
On our second encounter, we clicked. She was genuinely one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Mr A eventually wasn’t even needed around us. Our relationship flourished independent of him. I’d spend a lot of my time with her. I distinctly remember her saying to me on one of our first meetings, ‘Whatever you’re doing, continue. I’ve never seen him this happy in a relationship.’
I was on cloud nine. It was an amazing feeling knowing that the person I loved the most might have actually felt the same.
That was short lived. Obviously.
* * * *
Partying was inherent in Mr A’s world. It was euphoric. Since we were practically joined at the hip, I was sucked into the black hole. Like any girl in a new relationship, I tried to impress Mr A. “Yeah sure, I can drink anything. Bring thing!”
And bring thing they did.
* * * *
Don’t be a chicken. You got this. I think this might be a good time to mention that before this my alcohol tolerance had been very low. I barely drank and here I was about to shot puncheon. One shot. Fuck that was awful. It burns and I feel hot. I think I no longer have a throat. I smiled at Mr A, “Psshh. That’s it? I thought that was worse.” He looked at me amused.
“Ok Beast. Let’s take another one.”
* * * *
From what I recall, I started running on the spot because it had hit me. I needed to sweat it out of my system. This made sense to me at the time. I was fucked up. I was walking but it felt like I was floating. Keep it together.
He took me to his friend’s apartment where we were supposed to hang out more. He knew me well enough to know at this point I was NOT ok. I was being a trooper. I could tell he was impressed. Until I threw up on the floor and passed out…
* * * *
He cleaned my puke without hesitation, however, I was the butt of every joke the next day.
This eventually changed. After a few episodes of me throwing up, my tolerance grew. It didn’t take long. I started carrying around a mini bottle of puncheon in my handbag for him. It was our ‘break seal in case of fun’ bottle.
The next time I’d throw up was almost a year later at his friend’s wedding. The only time in my life I can say I was truly drunk. Mr A caught my puke in his hand, (the only other man to do this for me was my dad after a dentist’s appointment when I was 6). And then he caught me as I was about to hit the floor…
* * * *
Mr A had become my rock. He surprised me at times the way he would put my needs first, the way I always put his. The more time that passed, the deeper I fell in love with him. Just as I watched the helium balloons I let go drift away, I watched my heart float away and there was no way I could stop it.
People see what they want to in other people, and I chose to see the Mr A I wanted him to be. The Mr A that I knew he could have been. The Mr A that I knew was there once upon a time. You can only blind yourself until the reality comes creeping in. It wasn’t long before I fell from cloud nine.
And damn, was it a hard fall…