Evening Edition - 8/7/08

Insult to Injury
At his request, I met BD for coffee this morning. When I answered his e-mail and asked if his conversation was urgent and necessitated us meeting during work hours he replied, “Yes.” As we sat at the outdoor benches and I faced BD he immediately started with, “What happened Tuesday?” I looked around confused by his question. I mean, last I remember the man was with me when all the events unfolded, so why was he now asking me what went down? Seeing my disgust, he blurted that he was angry that I could be so confrontational that dreaded birthday evening and was enraged that I could accuse him of spitefully refusing to spend time with me. To spare you the torture of the entire discussion, suffice to say that most sentences he mentioned began with “I…..” or “My son….” or the best one of all, “To call my mother and tell her that I, again, changed my mind and would need her to watch the Minnie would have had me in the middle of a confrontation with her…” So let me get this straight, 1. He believes he had every right to be upset the night of my birthday and placed his anger over celebrating my one special day of the year 2. Although she watches the Minnie on our spontaneous ‘freak-week nights’ he’d like me to accept that his own mother would become confrontational if approached about keeping the kid a few extra hours that fateful night and that he would rather endure a confrontation with me, than his own mother 3. He would also have me believe that although I come second to his son today, as time progresses (and Gosh darn it, it has been over a year of our being serious) he would have me take the leap of faith of living with both him and the Minnie in the hopes of being bestowed with an ‘equal’ status that, depending on the occasion, may grant me priority.

Okay, so I sat in disbelief and wondered to myself, ‘Is dude really listening to himself or is he running his mouth without regard to what comes out of it?’

I sat back, took a deep breath and felt the knot in the pit of my stomach finally relax away. “You’re in luck my friend,” I said, “You won’t have to listen to my ‘fuckin’ arguing’ again because it’s over.” Yes folks, my birthday neglect was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s worn back. Admittedly, I had some responsibility for the outcome. I had failed to relay the many times I felt slighted, ignored and taken advantage of in the hopes that BD would naturally see what I believed to be obvious – that I care and was giving 100% and therefore, he should do the same. It was a belief in teach-by-example. I was mistaken. Sadly, my attempt to communicate my feelings on Tuesday were met with a tongue lashing about loving to “fucking argue.’

I love BD and contrary to what he believes now, I love the Minnie as well. Going forward I hope we can be friends. True love never dies, but I’m up on my feet again, so the days of allowing BD to trek back and forth over my overextended ass are officially over. On the last post comments ShawnQT asked what should be done? I think I just answered your question bruh.

The moral of the story is simple: To give of yourself never requires to give-up on yourself. Once you relegate yourself to a position of #2 you risk damaging your self esteem and losing respect for the very person you’re trying to accommodate.

On Blast
There are two sides to every story. In light of the special event and what you’ve read, is there any way to justify the choices BD made on Tuesday night? (Yes, Jump-Off Joe…I heard you…. LOL)

Keep passin’ the open windows…