Today I felt it pass over me, a breath of wind from the wings of madness.
~ Charles Baudelaire
As noted from my last blog, I had a run in with a total douche bag. The experience left a bad taste in my mouth. After a little over a month of the silent treatment, douchebag got the hint and I haven't heard from him since. Win!
Unfortunately, the fuckery didn't stop there. I have been involved with some interesting folks since then, and I didn't figure out how I was attracting the unsavory type until recently.
First, there was a gal I met through work. She seemed nice enough. I will call her Helga. We planned to spend some time on Sunday together over coffee. It was a hot day and we decided to beat the heat. This turned into me gathering my pups and driving us out to the river. Cassie swam and barked after the geese while Merlin howled on the shore because he was too much of a weenie to get into the water. Eventually, he gave up and stole bread from the children feeding the ducks and geese. True story.
On the same day as our outing, Helga decided she wanted a dog and insisted we head out to the Humane Society. She scoured the site for dogs she was interested in as I drove, attempting to navigate my way through unfamiliar territory. She seemed impulsive, flighty even, in her decisions. There was an underlying madness to her. Sure, I've run into people like her in my lifetime before - but I had to pay admission.
Upon arriving at the Humane Society, Helga immediately saw several dogs that peaked her fancy. I tried to explain to her that she could not just simply take the dog out, she had to go talk to the administrative staff in the front. The ever impatient and impulsive Helga (ID comes to mind now that I think of it), refused to listen to me and instead attempted to assault the first staff worker she saw. Helga was told by the staff worker that she had to talk to the administrative staff at the front.
This process was repeated 4 times before Helga decided to place a hold on a dog. We drove back to my house so she could pick up her car. I received a text the next day indicating that she got a puppy and I should bring Cassie and Merlin over to see it. This is where her behavior started to make me angry.
I arrive at her place with my dogs in tow. Helga is sitting on the steps of her house with a puppy in her lap freaking out because the pup she purchased from Craigslist has fleas . . . this doesn't surprise me one bit. As Helga goes back and forth from the seller of the pup over taking back the dog, I suggest that she look up a natural remedy for flea removal. By this time, the vet offices were closed that nothing could be done for wee little pup. Helga intended to keep the dog chained outside to her front porch. I think not.
As I assist Helga in giving the pup a lavender bath and spend the next two hours picking fleas off of the poor little darling, I ask Helga if she's fed the dog. Helga says she bought the dog Greenies and intended to give it cat food. Also not happening. I search through my car and give the pup the only wholesome dog biscuit I could find so she wouldn't starve. I also learn at this time that Helga has locked her boyfriend's cat in a room with nothing but his litter box, food and water for the week while her boyfriend is gone because she hates the cat. Helga also claimed she would not clean the litter box.
I leave late that night, considering what to do about the puppy. It's not Helga that I care to be entangled with at the moment, but I refuse to let an animal suffer if I can keep it from a stupid and neglectful owner. The next morning, I receive a text from Helga saying that she sold the puppy and was SO happy about it. She had the poor little darling for less than 12 hours.
I was relieved that puppy went on to greener and more sane pastures. I left for the weekend to go camping. I received a picture text from Helga that weekend showing me her new puppy . . . the crazy bitch got another one. May God have mercy on its poor, furry soul.
Then there's Jeb. I give him that name because it is reminiscent of white trash and this may very well be where he's sprung from. I took a psychology class with Jeb in the spring term. I don't know why, but many of the craziest folks I've ever met emerge from the depths of the psychology department. This makes worry sometimes if I'm heading in the right direction.
Jeb and I would have the occasional drink after class where we'd stuff our faces with bad bar food and shoot the breeze. Jeb and I eventually re-connected when we were done with summer term. I was still reeling with emotions of self hatred from an unfortunate event in my life. Jeb's form of medication was to get me drunk off my ass and continuously call me 'Darlin' . . . I don't think this works well. Jeb got scary very quickly. It sounded to me as if he were putting himself out there as a hit man. Perhaps I misheard him. I hope I misheard him.
Then the subject of Africa comes up. Jeb tells me he's tired of hearing about dumb American's going to Africa and thinking that no one can touch them because of their nationality. I can't remember exactly what else he said to me, but I do know that it upset me very greatly and I cried about it for hours. I called a friend who calmed me down, telling me that even if I never get to Congo, the desire to want to go is a noble one and I should be commended. I later wound up in a pagan shop after the phone ending my phone call with my friend.
This country and these women will always have a place in my heart. These women are so strong, and so beautiful because of their strength.
I recently received a text from Jeb, over a month after he left me balling my eyes out. He said he was sorry about what he said about Africa and that he cares about me and gets protective. What? How can you care about someone you barely know? Also, if he were that protective he would be here with me, helping me regain my self respect.
I reconnected with some childhood friends on facebook. One of which I dated in high school. He's now a cage fighter. This doesn't surprise me. Over the process of our exchange of e-mails and catching up, I learn that he and his wife have divorced. Upon learning this, I ask Mr. Cage Fighter if I can call him. My intentions were to see if he was okay. I sent him a text, he said it was all 'same shit different day.' Umm . . . . okay. I know we all process things differently. Five minutes later, I receive a text of his chiseled abs and he tells me I'm sexy. I'm not impressed.
There are other areas of madness in my life, but if I spoke of each one in detail this would go on forever. I'm trying to regain my footing.
