I know that I don't usually post personal stuff on the blawg, but I'm more than a little peeved/perplexed/ upset right now and I have to vent somewhere.
The girlfriend broke up with me last night. There was lots of yelling and unhappiness until she left about 1 in the morning. There was a loud screeching/scraping noise when she left but I was not going out there because I know she keeps a pistol in her truck. I suspect I'll find my car keyed when I go out this morning.
It was a weird breakup. I've been broken up with for a lot of reasons: emotionally unavailability, too many ferrets, too old, too boring, too out of shape, unwilling to be that kinky ("No, I will not spend the next 4 hours tying you into the Yakumora ball of pain-pleasure. Why not? Because that's too frigging dangerous and if you end up in the hospital, or worse, Officer Smith is going to be questioning ME about why there were 3 nooses tied around your neck."), and of course the old favorite, "It's not you. It's me."
Last night was different. I hooked my phone to some speakers and started playing music. She just went batshyte crazy on me. She kept screaming at me about how I am obsessed with the Monkees. She threw my Monkees CD's on the floor and tried to do the same with Monkees LP's I have up on the wall. She did get the poster of their guitar logo off the wall and ripped it in half, but I half a couple dozen of those so it was no big loss.
There was a lot of Monkees hate. Before last night, I didn't even know she had a problem with the Monkees. In fact, I thought she saw it as a lovable quirk of mine. And, you know, for the first little bit I thought she was pulling an early April fools joke. I really thought she was joking.
Then I saw her face . . .