#NerdsUnite: The Sarlacc Pit from Hell
<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Aaron ... he's a writer, and goth nerd. For reals, he's got some crazzyyyyy ass stories from some of the peeps he's met online, and is now here to share those crazy ass stories with you all. I only have one more thing left to say ... HIT IT AARON!!! </editorsnote>
#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @aaronflux
I keep avoiding this. The whole writing about my most recent ex. I've been cheated on and lied to by most of the girls in my dating past and I've griped about them over the years, turning the stories into a nice little Larry David-esque stand up routine as if to make people laugh and pity me in the same breath. It's a good coping mechanism I learned from a very young age: to make light of some serious bullshit in order to incite laughter from others. Not sure why my Jewish brothers and sisters are so good at this. I guess good comedy comes from pain and my people sure have their pain.
Ok. I'm still dancing around the issue. I'm going to talk about my last ex girlfriend. The one that I couldn't get unstuck from, as if her mere aura was some sort of sarlacc pit from Hell (as if a sarlacc pit itself wasn't enough...this one is from HELL!). It's now roughly 5 years since I broke up with her and 10 1/2 years after we started dating and that blows my mind a little. Seven years with a person, in a relationship as dysfunctional as mine was still to this day makes me shake my head a bit in disbelief. Because now I'm mentally clear from the bullshit that came with that situation and all logic now points to moves I should have made but never did. You can always think clearer when not buried in the middle of it.
Anyway, let's get to it, shall we?
I met Sarah the last week of the year 2000. I was stomping around on stage at the Goth/Industrial club I used to go to and she just sauntered on up to me in this plaid schoolgirl number, extended her hand to shake mine, and told me she thought I was adorable. Leaving me with my mouth agape because that never happens to me, she smiled and said her name was Sarah before walking away. I really think I stood there a good minute or two with my mouth open, not sure what to do. Somehow, I mustered up the courage to follow up with her and got the digits by the end of that night.
By February of 2001, we were dating.
I felt that I had hit the jackpot. She was one hot redhead and liked everything any guy would. Music, video games, Star Wars...porn. I mean seriously, I had never been with a girl like that. It was a thing. I felt pretty accomplished. Every guy's dream girl and she was mine.
It wasn't too long after we started dating that I was introduced to Robert. Sarah sat me down and seriously explained to me that Robert was just a friend and I shouldn't be intimidated or jealous by him. Uh...okay....I wasn't sure why she was warning me about this but she in turn told me most people she tried dating had an issue in one way or the other with him because they were good friends. Well, that seemed unfair. Nothing wrong with good friends, right? Nothing at all, unless they are fucking and more than good friends....but more about that later.
And this guy Robert. I mean shit, he wasn't much to look at. He showed up to her apartment with a six pack of trashy beer in a torn shirt and was very unkempt. He was in his 30s, living out of a dorm for a college he didn't even attend, and was going nowhere with his life. How appealing. She even acknowledged that to me, further stating how they were just friends. Uh huh....I was dumb. REALLY dumb.
I started to feel that something wasn't right, early on. She didn't enjoy sex, ultimately, kicking me out of bed saying she wasn't ever in the mood. She eventually told me this was due to her father molesting her at a young age and an ex high school boyfriend raping her in the high school's church. Well, shit. I really couldn't fight her on that. And because I'm such a nice and understanding person, I stood by her and was patient in my attempt to help her work through her shit.
Sometime in 2002, I went with her to her best friend's house where he was leading a bible study. I'm an open minded person so when she invited me, I said sure. I am not religious but I won't knock your beliefs as long as you don't shove them down my throat. Her best friend, by the way, was a 30 something high school drop out that lived with his mother who modeled his appearance after a Mexican Dracula and absolutely would fuck Dave Gahan because he was THAT much of a Depeche Mode fan. And this guy was leading the bible study. I remember that night to be a bit odd as everyone there looked more like they'd fit in at a Vampire The Masquerade Party than a group praising the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. Hell, after the preaching was done, I remember I got into a heated discussion with a guy named Mike who believed warlocks existed but not dragons. I argued dragons had to exist. He got pissed at such a preposterous notion.
These were her friends. But still, I did my best to accept them as I have an open mind and am pretty awesome with my patience.
2003 was when we first broke up. I believe I said we should end it because at that time, she was having a hard time labeling us. She didn't want to call me her boyfriend. She kept pulling the molestation card. She never held my hand and wouldn't kiss me in public. Blaming it also on Social Anxiety Disorder. Yet, when we went out in public, she found it quite easy to flirt with other guys. In front of me. 2003 was also the year I believe my balls took a vacation.
We were split for roughly 7 months I think. My balls started returning roughly around the time that she called me out of the blue excited about that year's line-up for Coachella. And while not expecting to ever hear from her again, this one phone call pulled me right back into the trap that was dating Sarah. Because technically, from her words, we weren't "dating". Yet immediately following those words, she'd always tell me I was the only guy she was seeing. So you explain that one to me.
That year, we went to Coachella. At the time, I was living with a roommate and he came along with us. I remember she was really excited to introduce him to Robert, who lucky for me, was also going to be there. By that point, I had grown a bit sick of hearing this man's name. "Good friends". Fine. I had nothing to prove otherwise. I've been with girls in the past who have lied and cheated so maybe this was just me having an issue with a girl being friends with a guy. I did my best to cope...even when she was telling my roommate Scott how hot Robert was with his newly dyed blue hair. Oh yeah...I suppose I should also state Scott was gay.
That night, while Scott and I hung out in our hotel room, Sarah spent something like 2 hours on the balcony talking to Robert on the phone. Whispering at times. Being secretive. She played it off though that he was just depressed since he went to Coachella alone and they were concert buddies. Ok fine. Makes sense.
Balls? Vacation.
My friends made it very clear to me they did not like Sarah. My best friend would constantly point out to me that any girl or guy a person is dating should at least be able to show affection to the other person involved in the relationship. Her inability to call me a boyfriend or hold my hand in public showed him that there was something she was hiding. But I couldn't hear it. She was a molestation victim who was raped by an ex, who's mother died from Cancer, who's father was in prison for drugs. I just read that last sentence back to me and that's one cluster fuck of red flags. I was an idiot of the highest regard!
In 2005, I got a job being her assistant at an internet clothing company. Since she didn't know how to drive and I pretty much took her to work regularly, this seemed like a great decision. We shared an office and both did our jobs well. But let me just state, you need to be in an almost perfect relationship to work for your significant other. That environment got a bit stuffy rather fast. Although, our trips to lunch where I may or may not have gotten my fair share of road head were great at breaking up the monotony of the day.
That same year, her grandmother passed away and she needed to fly back East to deal with the funeral and such. That two week period, I had to take over and worked in the office alone. It was around that time that a mutual friend of mine and hers started telling me that she wasn't being completely honest with me. That she was dating Robert. That I was being played. But somehow, I couldn't grasp this. I had been through that time and time again and couldn't be stupid enough to somehow go back down that road. So I didn't believe him. Like he was making this up or something. Because that would benefit him....how?
During this two week period when she was dealing with family stuff, my work computer crashed and I had to continue doing my morning shipping tasks and emails from her computer. And that was when I ran across some questionable emails from her to Robert, one of which said something to the extent of "I can't wait for you to bend me over and fuck me up the ass."
I sat there. I stared at those words on the screen probably for a good 10 minutes. My heart immediately began racing and I had this sudden feeling like I was going to crap my pants. Doing my best to not throw the computer out of the window, I went outside and called her. I suppose the worst time to deal with such things is when you're also stuck dealing with family and funerals and death. But....what the fuck? I needed an explanation like NOW! The explanation I got, though, was this was how she talks to all her friends. That it was an inside joke. That I'm taking it the wrong way and there was nothing overtly sexual about it. I remember screaming into the phone while pacing on the sidewalk, "Nothing overly sexual about bend me over and fuck me in the ass!?!". She ended the conversation saying we'll talk about this when she gets back to L.A.
But I needed to know more. This led me down a rabbit hole of sorts. See, not only did I work with her, she left me her house keys to make sure her cat was taken care of and well fed. Her keys...rabbit hole. At the end of that work day, I headed straight to her place and snooped. And it didn't take me long to find what I was looking for. Her journal was just sitting there next to the couch and after flipping through some pages, I found this statement: "It's been years and Aaron still doesn't know the truth about Robert." And then, a very easy search on her computer and I found some rather revealing pictures of these two good friends doing what more than good friends do. Meaning, I saw pictures of his penis visiting her vagina.
Well now I knew the truth. That week was tough. The day her flight landed, I was waiting outside of her apartment since she told me Robert was getting her from the airport. And then she called me telling me hadn't shown up and asked me to come get her. Sure. I will drive to LAX from Glendale to get you. I need to unleash the fury upon you, bitch!
Then, while on my way, she called again saying he was there and she'll talk to me when she gets home. Sure, I'll turn my car around like an idiot and drive back to your apartment and wait.
For an hour or two.
Just pace, furiously, up and down the block waiting.
Well she finally came home and we sat down. I laid everything out there. She owed me money since not only could she not drive, she also couldn't be financially responsible to take care of basic things like paying her electric bills...instead opting to shell her money out on one expensive concert ticket after the other. And as if she expected me to bring up the money, she pulled out an envelope of cash and gave me everything that was due me. And instead of hailing down the storm of rage, I empathized with her. I understood the behavior of a rape victim. Of a molestation victim. Of an addict. I ended our relationship that night with her.
And that Friday we went to Las Vegas together...you know....because we already had plans to take a trip. And hotel reservations. Yep, I have no excuse.
So it just continued. Except now I knew the full nature of the beast.
2005 was the year I earned the Idiot Of The Year Award.
Through 2006 and 2007, we "dated". Our sex life got a bit better as now I knew the truth. However, the sex wasn't great. She had an issue with letting me into her bed so we continued having shenanigans in my car. She told me that Robert was no longer in her life and she was working on her relationship with her father and her past. And one day in an offhanded remark, she told me she had lied about being raped and molested. It was spoken so quickly, like a little ninja tangent, that I forgave her almost immediately for lying about such things to me. Again, behavior of a victim, I told myself.
While not dating Robert at that point, she started hanging out with a girl. She said they were friends. But everyone else said otherwise, including the girl in question. And this girl whose name was more a stupid adjective than anything, looked like she could pass for the brother of that bible study conducting best friend of her's I spoke of earlier. They went to gay pride together. They went to concerts and dinners and Sarah got to know the girl's family pretty well. What the fuck was I dealing with here?!?
Also, her friends, at this point hated me violently. I had never done anything to receive such behavior. But after realizing that I could no longer go into her new place of business because everyone THERE hated me, that feeling had to stem from things she had told them about me. It got to a point where I would drive her to work or pick her up from work and would have to park down the block so no one would see me.
But at the time, I didn't understand the she was actually talking shit behind my back. In turn, she would talk shit about them to me explaining how horrible they all are. And she would do the same about her friends who hated me. Manipulative to no end. But she told me she had begun a mission to get me back into their good graces by proving to them I was a good guy. Hell, I had come this far in this ridiculous excuse of a relationship, why not try for the record and get the Idiot Of The Decade award while I'm at it?
So I went along with that concept. But in the meantime, I agreed to go along with her lies around our mutual friends. I was a secret to everyone. All as a favor to her. I wasn't even allowed to tell my closest friends we were together again and working on things. Later, I found out that she had told them I was an ex who just couldn't get over her. At this point, the sarlacc pit from Hell had all but swallowed me whole. My balls were somewhere halfway across the planet. I was a glorified chauffeur, really. And the obvious solution was to end it all and not look back but seriously, my powers of perception were so blinded that I probably wouldn't have known a whale was wanting me as dinner until I was sitting in that damn thing's belly.
In 2007, the plan was to introduce me as a good guy down at SDCC. We were to meet near The Gaslamp District, her with her coworkers, and me...with just me. Well sadly, there was some hotel accommodation mix ups and I was stuck without a room to sleep in. Once she got in town, and I told her this, she sort of pat me on the shoulder and told me that sucked. No offer to stay with her as she was staying with people who hated me. Well, I quickly made their opinion of me quite worse as that was the night I unraveled. The reality that I was stuck in San Diego without anywhere to sleep, while needing to put on a song and dance so strangers I give two shits about could like me, while watching her flirt with her ex boyfriend on the dancefloor at the post Masquerade Ball party...I just started to snap. And when she told me to stop being a baby and to just sleep in my car, while Bananakin Skywalker pumped his light saber in the air to Snoop Dogg's "Drop It Like It's Hot"...I finished snapping and unleashed a bunch of nonsense at the top of my lungs at her in front of people she knew and a lot of people neither one of us knew.
I remember it being close to midnight at that point and I told her I was leaving. Sad thing was, we all had to walk back to my car because I was nice enough to let them store their luggage in my trunk. Yep, I sealed their impression of me as the psycho ex boyfriend. They left me at my car where I tried to sleep unsuccessfully. And then at 1:30 in the morning, I drove back to Los Angeles. I never got to fully experience the Convention and I didn't care. I was beyond pissed and had a horrible taste in my mouth. My balls....they had returned and were fucking choking me with rage.
I broke up with her that week. It wasn't a hand holding pity party. I gave it to her straight. And in a triumphantly gut wrenching move, I got her to admit to me that for the full 7 year duration of our so called relationship, I was never her boyfriend. I was the guy she was cheating on her boyfriend Robert with.
Let that sink in for a second.
When I left her house that evening, I told her to be single for a while because she just didn't know how to be in a relationship. A week later, she started dating a friend of mine.
And a year or so later, he broke up with her because of Robert.
And the cycle, it repeats itself.
2007 was the year I began my successful ascent out of the sarlacc pit from Hell.
And much like those who look back on near death experiences feeling bigger and stronger, it's quite safe to say I'm motherfucking John Rambo now.
After ending the relationship, I realized I really lost 7 years worth of experiences and joy. I needed to work on some things, work through some things, and build myself back up from the ground up. And I did! I'm goddamn Rambo!
First Blood, Motherfuckers!