Tuesday, June 01, 2004

My big, fat, dysfunctional failure of an engagement

Angie was a beautiful 20-year-old college coed when I met her; I was 22 and just out of school. I bumped into her at the mall, Yankee Candle, to be exact, said "hi", and was instantly entranced by her shimmering blonde hair and crystal blue eyes.

Later, I saw her headed toward Macy's, so I went in through another entrance and floated between the women's and fragrance departments, figuring she'd probably be there sooner or later. Sure enough, there she was.

So we started going out, and things were great. She gave me my first blow job (she spit), and we fucked all the time. I was in heaven. About six months in, we were saying "I love you". And you know what? I kind of meant it!

After our two-year anniversary, things changed. She started pressuring me about "making a commitment". Not only did we have "the talk"; we had it once a week. Or more. I kept telling her I was not ready, that I needed more time. But I felt like I would lose her if I didn't do something.

So I did what any self-respecting, sex-loving man would do: I took the necessary actions to keep the pussy train on track! I bought her a ring, proposed, then refused to set a date. Ingenius, huh?

After the engagement, she asked me twice about setting a date. Twice. I put her off both times. Next thing I knew, I couldn't get her on the phone, the locks on her apartment doors were changed, and her friends were either avoiding me outright, or calling me a prick.

Finally I went to her work, at "Sonny's Garage". I tried to talk to her, and she ran to the back room. Out comes this sweaty, greasy meatball, Sonny. "I tink it's best you don' speak to da lady no moah," he said. I had gotten drunk with this guy! WTF?

"Sonny, come on. Tell her to talk to me. This is three years. THREE YEARS of my life, man! She can't end it like this!"

"Gonna hafta ask ya ta leave now," was all he said.

I never saw her again.

Come to think of it, I bet you dollars to donuts she was fucking that greaseball.

I know, I was a prick. But is that any way to break up with me? After three years? What a fucking BITCH!

I know what you are saying: "All is explained. He can't commit to a relationship, because he was hurt so badly by Angie. He's afraid of being hurt again!"

But I think you are wrong. And Doc does too. See, the reason Angie dumped me to begin with is because I WOULDN'T COMMIT. I still won't commit to anyone now. So whatever is bothering me was already there when I met Angie.

I'm too tired to continue tonight, so I'll talk about Lila tomorrow.