I Don't Freakin' Believe It

by Smoot

"May you live in interesting times."

This is the second installment of my rant, and I thought long and hard about a subject to write about. I would've had something earlier, but I've been going through some interesting times, to say the very least. But here I am, and there you go, and whoop-dee-do, and yippee-ki-yay.

So this week's rant, for this wonderful Thanksgiving day and following weekend, is about yours truly, and it's not about what I have to give thanks for. It's about something that happened to me recently, something which is cheapening this holiday for me. So I'm warning you, if you are in a really good mood, don't read any further. I just have some aggressions to get out.

Last year two days ago, November 24, 1997, I started dating a girl that, for her own protection and anonymity, we will call Jane. Anyway, Jane and I started going out, and we had been toying with that notion for a long three months beforehand, and I coincedently discovered that I have incredible patience.

Well, about a month into our relationship, I discovered that she was manic depressive, and prone to unexpected mood swings, to put it lightly. I'd call her on no particular afternoon just to talk to my girlfriend, and I'd say, "How are you?", and in this bizarre laugh that one usually associates with a raving lunatic, she'd respond, "I don't know!" and then break out into tears and sob into her pillow, going on and on about how the world was gypping her and how horrible her life was, and I started wondering why I even bothered calling her anyway.

It got worse. Finally, and ironically on Valentine's Day, I broke it off, claiming that it just wasn't fun anymore. She agreed, and said for me not to worry about it. You see, even though I was becoming more and more put off by her, I wanted nothing but the best for her. That's just the kinda guy I am.

Well, for about two weeks, we steered clear of each other. That goes without saying for a recently split-up couple, though.

Then we became friends again, and everything was cool.

But wait: Don't go just yet. Now we get to the bitter part of the rant.

I found out from her best friend that Jane was the kind of person that associated times, seasons, and people with the emotions she would go through. She always says that winter is bad for her, and I did know that, but I didn't think about it. I didn't know that she would have a horrible winter that year. But she didn't blame it all on the time of year though. Nonono. That lucky distinction was saved for one very bewildered teenager.

She tore into me day after day, picking me, poking fun at me, basic stuff like that. I put up with that because a lot of people make fun of me. Hell, Spade does too, but I know she only does it because she cares about me. So do my other friends, and they exploit my fear of needles because my reaction to some grabbing my sides with their fingernails and screaming "Ten needles all at once!" usually precedes the screaming and jumping with much flailing of the limbs.

So, since all of my friends act like that, I didn't think twice about it.

But then came one fateful day. At lunch, in the cafeteria, when that strange silence that always happens no matter how many people were talking not three seconds ago fell over the table, I randomly said, "And then the conversation just went ppppphhhhttt." It got a laugh from everyone except Jane, who just said, "See, that's what I hate about Matt. He can never deal with silence!"

My response was somewhere along the lines of "Huh?"

She didn't say anything for all of one minute, when she said, "Hey, let's talk about how Matt just used the jazz band until we didn't suit him anymore and he left us behind."

Don't get me wrong. I love jazz. I just had a busy schedule. And she knew that. Her remark was for the specific purpose of inciting a reaction. And it did. "You know I don't turn my back on the band, Jane," I said coldly, pissed at having my integrity entered in the competition.

There are a lot of things you can to me, but you do not question my integrity.

Then the gun went off, and she came out of the gate like a dog with its tail caught on fire. She told me how angry she was when I said that I knew what I was going to do with my life already, and that that wasn't how she was going through life so it shouldn't be how I went though there.

The entire table was shocked at the things she was saying. One of my friends half-agreed with her, saying that it wasn't right that my plan was essentially to be a hermit. (I hate people, okay?!)

But then she just shouted at the top of her lungs, "Then why don't you just die!?"

Luckily, everyone else jumped to my defense, because had they not, I probably would've responded with some less-than-kind words.

So my closest friends, using that debate and the general tension between Jane and I as evidence, set about doing everything in their power to keep us apart. When the group of then went out, it was either with me or with Jane. Never both, if at all possible. When it had to be done that way, someone would come hang out with me while the others went with her. I felt kinda bad about that, but what can ya do?

But the little "party" went on, until the band was exhausted, the guests were cantankerous, and the kitchen staff was planning a riot. But then, on a trip to a little cafe out of town, she challenged me to a chess game.

I had warned all my friends that my patience with her was wearing down, and if Spade, who has the remarkable ability to tell me when I'm acting like an asshole and how to calm down (usually involving a threat to do bodily harm), wasn't there and Jane was, it was all goin' down.

Spade wasn't, Jane was, and it went.

The chess game took two and a half hours, and I kept a perfect poker face on the entire time. Completely motionless. Completely unreadable. Amazed even myself. But she took forever making a move. Any move, for that matter. My other two friends averaged twelve moves between them to Jane's one. These are basic moves, people. Her thought process: "Should I move the pawn one space or two? Oooh, don't want it to get caught. Let's check every one of his pieces' possible move and see if they could possible within the next three moves capture my pawn. Rook 1. Nope... nope... if it did this, then maybe, but only if it did that too... can't risk it. Next piece, knight 2. Hmm...."

Ouch.

After my patience had dwindled down to nothingness, I said blatantly, "I quit."

She was like, "Oh good! I win! I win! I'm going to tell everyone at school that I beat Matt! I beat you, I beat you, I beat you..." --she's jumping up and down in her chair like a schoolgirl-- "..I beat you, I beat you, I beat you..." It's all I can do not to beat her. Hard. Many many times. With the table, preferably.

But since it was a forfeit, she left my pieces on the board, saying that she was going to get someone else to finish the game. I told her that I didn't want anyone finishing what I started, and that no one picks up where I leave off. She was like, "No, I said someone's going to play your pieces!" I said no politely one more time, and she protested, ignoring my request, so I lowered my hand to sweep my pieces off the board. She grabbed it and pushed it back at me, refusing to let me do that. Trying to finalize my point and drive it home, I knocked three pieces over and was going for the fest when she jumped up and charged me, trying to choke me.

As hard as I dared, I shoved her off, grabbed my leather jacket off the back of my chair, put my hat back on, and stormed out, she saying, "Oh, you're not going to go pout and walk home, are you? That's something I would do."

I went outside and passed some stupid college idiot who took one look at me and shouted "Hey! He's fucking loaded!"

I turned around and shouted at the top of my lungs, "And you're fucking gay!!"

Spade told me that that had to have been the evening's only high point for me, and that it was really funny when I told her about it.

The group, Jane included, went out and started looking for me when after ten minutes I had yet to return. I saw them, and went in the opposite direction, not ready to face them. I was convinced they'd be angry with me for stressing out the group. Turned out they were angry with Jane for driving me out and putting me through hell.

One of my friends said to her, "You know how proud we always are because we say we're the mature ones in school? Matt was, you weren't." They all agreed that she was out of line.

On the way home, she turned around and said that she wanted to talk to me. I said talk away. She wanted to make sure I knew why she acted towards me like she did.

She couldn't respect me at all because of my attitude, my dislike of quiet (what the hell?), and my so-called "lack of respect" for my classes, especially Chemistry. My attitude is just fine and dandy, and her fault, I don't like uneasy pauses in conversations, especially when I cause them, and I have the utmost respect for my classes. I just don't care. I told her about how much her little "Why don't you just die?!" thing hurt me, and she tried to apologize. Little late for that now, isn't it?

But she just said, "Well, if I can't respect Matt, then maybe I can't be Matt's friend." She always talked about me like I wasn't there. I was used to that.

Well, I didn't say anything then, and it might be a little after-the-fact now, but I still have to say it. I don't want friends like that. As far as I'm concerned, she can go back into her little everybody-hates-me-I-suck-why-is-the-world-out-to-get-me-I-should-just-kill-myself-now world and come back to me when she can act mature enough to say something without lunging at my neck with intent to strangle. Only it'll be too late then, because she did more that day than just crush my self-esteem for half a month. She screwed herself over, and I'm not gonna be there like I was before to try and help her. As far as I'm concerned, she is no more important to me than the floor mat I walk on as I leave my porch.

Hope the rest of you had a better Thanksgiving than I had.

-Smoot