Wednesday, July 23, 2014


The scenario goes something like this:

A couple, who have been dating for - let's say - two years, break up.  Let's also say that he is the breakee. She has accused him of sleeping around, stealing money from her purse for drugs and alcohol and just being one mean, unreliable son of a fuck-face.  Fuck-face is her word.  He tells her in a text that he's done.  He can't take the accusations. He can't take her voice and all the yelling.  He can't take her mouth.  Well, he likes her mouth but he doesn't like the way she uses it.  He just can't take it anymore.
Within minutes, the status messages start to fly.  She tells the world that he is a two-timing lowlife.  Her case is bolstered by any number of colorful and explicit adjectives.  He tells the same world that she is a paranoid, overbearing, dominating succubus. He does not use the word succubus (he can't spell it) but uses a shorter word that isn't technically allowed on social media.  The closest he comes to succubus is cu...

One day in, he changes his relationship status. To Single! She is furious. Devastated.  Hurt.  Embarrassed.  Bereft of self-worth, even.  Is that all their relationship meant to him? One day. She could have changed her relationship status first - lots of guys would have liked her new status - but she thought maybe there was still hope for them.  Her ire - and, of course, her grief - spawns near endless messages dripping with despair and newfound fury.  Likes positively ding off the hook - to resurrect an arcane image; the latest adjectives are more colorful and more anatomically impossible than before.

Within two days the tone of the rhetoric changes.  He admits to some extracurricular sex but it, the sex, wasn't his fault.  The woman was nuts.  A certified and certifiable paranoid schizophrenic, a schizoid.  He was afraid to say  no.  You know those never know what they will do.  She scared the shit out of him.  He was thinking of her - the girlfriend, that is - of what would happen if he said "no".  The police might have to be called (which would be bad - there was a lot of weed in his backpack); she might have to identify his body.  He was only thinking of her.

She cries.

He cries.

More messages find a voice.  The woman who fell ever so deliberately on her unwilling boyfriend's undulating (though unwilling) member is vilified and threatened with the worst kind of violence. Mention is made of her kid brother's new baseball bat and the alleged sluts patently unclean body parts.  Boyfriend and girlfriend are reunited without further mention of money, drugs or a somewhat lengthy history as a fuck-face...

This is not, I should mention a Lifetime movie.  No one will ultimately be murdered.  There won't be a lengthy trial (with a patently ridiculous verdict) to kill some time.  This drama is playing out on social media and I am on the computer because there is nothing left to watch.  Vikings is in hiatus.  I am up to date with Salem and I've managed to watch every episode of The Misfits (in just three days) and I cannot bring myself to watch one more re-run of Law and Order SVU.  What's left?

I do not understand why I keep reading these things.

I don't know why people keep posting them.

I should shut off the computer.  Maybe read a book.  I have two pages left to one of Dean Koontz's Odd books.  I have had two pages left for three weeks.

Do you really want to leave this page?

They always ask that.  Am I making a mistake?

Magnus Rex 321 is complaining about the bathroom at Starbucks.  He should try the stalls at Walmart but...but wait...which Starbucks?

This is stupid.

I should click yes.

Just one click.

This is really hard.

I'll get a cup of tea first. 

He got a vasectomy without telling her.  What if she wanted children?

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