Can you say Psycho?!
I am beginning to truly realize what I have gotten myself into. Aside from his desire to die, I am learning quick that B is more than I bargained for…
B is a man-whore. His phone is constantly ringing, he is always silencing his phone, and then he listens to the messages from what he thinks is a safe distance from me hearing. WRONG. And what I hear is NON-STOP girl-whores asking him to come over… “I don’t care if you have a girlfriend now”, “lets hang out like old times”. BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. This shit will either stop, or I will become crazy.
Guess which comes first.
So I do what any “normal” girlfriend would do and figure out the code to get into his voice-mail, and I listen to his messages. That’s right. I have become that girl.
The first try was easy, got it right away. His favorite combo of numbers entered twice. (See ladies, it does pay off to know your mans favorite numbers). I don’t even feel ashamed that I check his messages and then leave them on his phone so that later, when he checks them, they are still there yet not listed as “new messages”. I am flaunting my new possessed skill in his face.
Then the number changes. He finally got smart. Not smart enough though because it takes me all of 1 minute to realize he used his sons birthday. So once again I am back in the business of having access to all of his voice-mail messages.
He changes the code several times and I manage to figure out EACH new code. I am a proud crazy woman.
What I hear is highly disturbing and I get a thrill out of it. I have become the crazy ass girlfriend/fiance. Ya know, the one who looks through phone records, sneaks into his messages, calls the girl-whores to tell them that they better back the fuck off because I am not opposed to slicing fake titties off of a bitch. Yes, I said that.
Who have I become??? Can you say Psycho?! This is not me at all. I have become crazy and completely obsessed with B and his shenanigans. Instead of using it as an excuse to leave the relationship, I use it as bait to get into bigger fights. Bigger fights = a bigger make up. The more crazy I get, the happier B seems to be. The more “destined” we are for each other. (Insert sarcasm for that last sentence).
One specific woman that B works with is relentless and I believe she is getting off on all of this crazy attention. So what does she do?? She calls B more often, leaving messages that would send any girlfriend (especially the crazy kind) into a fucking frenzy.
I have had it with her. I am nuts… I don’t even recognize myself anymore as I go stomping into his employment and to this lady-whores department. She is lucky that a glass counter separates us. I lean in close so she can hear me…
~If you do not leave my Fiance the fuck alone, I am going to come in here and put that lovely little face of yours through the fucking glass counter. (SMILE)~
She is completely silent and backed away as far as she can get from me.
Mission accomplished. The bitch never called again.
The next time I happened to see her was at B’s funeral. Good girl for doing what you were told.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000/2001. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **