Friday, September 23, 2011
How about a cup of truth and maybe an ounce of forgiveness?
Invisible Man wrote me a long, nice, explanatory email, hoping I will still be his friend. On one hand, I feel like a cad. But on the other hand, I'm very cautious.
It's tough. When do you know when to forgive? And if you forgive, can you forget?
I forgave Cactus Man overandoverandoverandoverandover. UNTIL, I realized it was just a game with him.
But like T. says, "I.M. isn't Cactus Man."
That's a tough, one too. To let go. I guess I still have relationship-P.T.S.D left over from Cactus Man. Sigh.
Monday, September 12, 2011
I'm noticing that the Invisible Man really is milking this "Depression" issue. He got canned from his job this fall, too. But as my friend, JJ, noted, "Didn't he ALREADY know when he took the job that they'd can him in the fall? If so, why's he making such a big deal?"
It's because he's a Drama King (in addition to a commitment phobe and playing the "I've got depression, so NOTHING is my fault" card).
A DRAMA KING.
I never knew, until I met the Invisible Man, that there was such a thing as a Drama King. Here's the warning signs if you have a Drama King in your life.
How to Spot a Drama King:
1. Every single story turns into a near-calamity, with impending death, just a breath away. And no humor is used (though you might think that it's funny). The Drama King thinks whatever story he's spinning is heart-attack-serious. He wants every drop of your attention. And you should answer him with remarks such as "No way. You POOR thing." Or "Gosh, life is just so unfair to you. Let me make you an omelet." Just going to the grocery becomes a near-death event to a Drama King. "OMG! I almost got killed in the parking lot at the grocery store. This cat ran out in front of me, and I had to dodge an empty shopping cart and put on the brakes. I almost died. OMG!" Warning: do not laugh at the Drama King's serious story or you will have to endure a "Hissy Fit." See #3
2. Topper Syndrome: Anything you have to say is a moot point because the Drama King has had it, far, far, far worse than you. He MUST top every one of your stories, and preferably, he'll just interrupt your story with his anyway. After all, his story is MUCH more important (Dramatic) than yours.
You: Man, I'm not feeling good. I have a 104 degree temperature. I think I'll call the doc."
Drama King: Sick?! You want to talk about sick? I drove from Custer all the way to Deadwood in the pouring rain on my motorcycle. I got so cold I started violently shaking, shaking so badly the manager came to my room, asking if I was OK. My temperature was 116, and then . . ."
3. Hissy Fit: If you do not show enough empathy for him while he's in the middle of a Drama Tale, he will throw a hissy fit.
Ex. You: So you didn't really have a near-death experience in the parking lot. A cat just ran out in front of you, right?
Drama King: OMG. You never listen to a thing I say. I tell you I almost DIED. I ALMOST DIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Well, the Invisible Man is claiming Major Depression these days. And I'm sorry I've ever met this guy. He's going to try some new meds. He's really into the "Poor Me" song and dance. Depression defines him, the way a normal person's new Sunday suit defines them. He wears it with happiness (kind of odd since he's allegedly got depression). And he's giving the illness a bad name.
If you're clinically depressed, does that mean you treat people like assholes? Oh, yes, I guess it does! Cactus Man had depression, too. But Cactus Man was naturally an asshole. Just an asshole. He never blamed his depression as the cause of being an asshole. He was proud to be one.
But Invisible Man has taken that up 4 notches. Apparently, you can be "depressed" and be not only an asshole, but an obnoxious asshole who's self-absorbed.
Now, in all my fantastically NOT boring dating experiences, I've never met anyone who was THIS "self-absorbed." Let me you give some of the highlights.
How to be a Self-absorbed Asshole:
1. Always Pull "The Poor Me Gag--"Frame anything anyone tells you that might be critical with "But you can't understand what I'm going through." Use this line whenever you want free reign over being in touch with your inner-asshole.
2. Only talk about yourself-- Who cares if your friends are having any issues or a hard time, right? After all, aren't you the most fascinating person you've ever known? If given hell about this, pull #1 (re-read above).
3. Break Promises-- Remember to only keep your word for YOURSELF. That's the important thing. Don't let pointless things like say "other people's feelings/needs" stand in your way. It really is ALL about you. So make promises like, "Sure, I'll help you put on that garage door," and then just never show up. If pressed, use tactic #1 or #2 or a combo.
4. Get Indignant When Someone Tries to Hold You Responsible--say things in your email like, "You'll get no where with me if you have that kind of tone. You should know this by now." Revel in your indignancy. Remember your mantra: "It's all about me."
Practice these 4 simple rules and you too, can be a Depressive Indignant Asshole.
Disclaimer: This isn't to say all/any people with Depression are assholes, just one's who were probably already assholes anyway, illness or not.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Did you know you could inadvertantly "Day Camp" in Hillbilly Land?
So What's Hillbilly Land?
The "Wait, Wait, Don't Shoot me" Camp Tale was an example set in Nebraska.
But the arresting thing, is that Hillbilly Land can be anywhere, unbeknownst to you. SO YOU TOO could be living in Hillbilly Land and not even know it.
Even in the Black Hills--boo!
Let me go back a few years to when I first moved here with my ex.
Back when we moved here, all we knew was that the Black Hills, part of the northern mountains of the Rockies, was BEAUTIFUL. Yet, we didn't know anyone here, but you have to start somewhere when it comes to making new friends, so what do you do? You get to know your neighbors in your triplex, right? Note: these were the first "locals" we met.
You ask them to go on a "Day Camp" with you to Steamboat Mountain park for a cook out. But here's the hitch.
1. You don't know them at all.
2. You don't really know the area you're living in because you just moved here. Maybe you're orginally from a much more cosmopolitan area. And you're shy, a touch embarrassed.
Signs You're Now Living in Hillbilly Land:
1. Dirty, strange, baseball caps on all men, and most women with the bill gently curved into a half arc. Caps are worn on all days, even overcast, and caps are worn indoors. The caps have logos and mottos like "NASCAR," "Broncos," "Dekalb: Feed-n-Seed," "Cabellas," or "I think the Teaparty is Neat!"
2. Weirdly dirty fingernails on people who haven't begun to start camping.
3. Alarmingly old jeans (Wranglers or 80's stone washed, Mom-Jeans that come up to the neck, white velcro closure tennis shoes.
It went like this.
"So we'd like to know if you'd like to go picnic with us."
"Yeah, just bring something you'd like to eat."
(barely discernible grunt)
So we met them at the agreed-upon remote spot.
"Here," said the neighbor's boyfriend, thrusting me a bag of fried pork rinds that were already opened. I have never seen a bag of pork rinds before, (have you?). FYI: they look like are bloated potato chips with a brown skid mark going down the middle (I don't want to know what the brown mark is).
"Wow, cool," I say and hand the bag to my boyfriend. "Do you want to get the coals going?" I ask our new neighbor. Everyone knows how to start a BBQ, right?
He brought a bag of charcoal and poured about half of a twenty pound bag into the tiny camp grate. He tried match after match. "I cain't get it goin' 'cause it's windy." My boyfriend's face twitches, but he says nothing.
Then a more alarming thing happens. The neighbor goes to his car and gets a can of either gasoline or kerosene (at this point, what does it matter?)
Woosh, goes the flame. Not only do his cuffs of his shirt get singed, but so do his eyebrows, which apparently he finds rather amusing.
OK, you can imagine how the burgers turned out. My BF, dumped his in the trash when no one was looking.
Then came the next part.
"Hey, I brought some dip I made," I said, pushing the pork rinds aside. "It'll be good with these potato chips," I added. Because, who in their right mind eats hog skid marks?
Then, they proceeded to "double dip." Double dipping is to dip your chip into the dip, slobber and eat half of it, then stick the dirty, saliva-covered chip, back into the dip.
Need I say we cut the "Day camp" with the NEW NEIGHBORS short and got a pizza on the way home?
There's more. But it's too disgusting to share. So know this. It ain't over til the fat lady sings, and just when you think you've seen a REAL hillbilly, you can always suprise your