...And Then the Wheels Fell Off

After the early morning encounter, I was being routinely visited by my new girlfriend. She of course didn't want to be known as a girlfriend, we were merely friends with benefits. I didn't mind the classification, because in all truth the conversations we had were staccato and empty. There was nothing in common to relate with each other. She would humbly recite incidents in the life she was passing through the underbelly of Southern Arkansas, the drugs and the cops and while at first it was intriguing and morbidly fascinating it quickly became desperate and sad. Of course my every day nonsense was wearing thin on her I'm sure. You could only revise so many times the daily workings of long suffering employment. To top things off, the heated carnality was quickly waning, as if the satisfaction had peaked early and was beginning to bottom out.

Once, I was preparing to head out to the bar to join some friends when she came in and was crying once more. She wanted to talk to me and she preceded to tell me how dishonest she had been. It was really mean and cruel for her to continue this charade and then showed me this small engagement ring excavated from her purse. She was technically engaged to some other guy in Arkansas and she couldn't continue to pull the cliched wool over my eyes. In her purse, were threatening letters from some illiterate buffoon, accusing her of a cornucopia of offenses. She says to me that she can't help but to still love this guy, even though he's flattened her tires at work and even though he would cheat on her and smack her around she knew the real guy inside and he was worth saving.

I stood there in the wake of this revelation not really surprised. I had my suspicion about it, and here it was in broad daylight trembling and muttering nonsense about saving someone. Then she opens her mouth and tells me that she wants to be friends because I am "too nice of a guy", to continue to sleep with.

If I had a dime for every time that cliched overused statement had been said to my face, I could be a millionaire. A sequence of different faces and voices I could recall telling me that statement. I stood there and just nodded, dejected by the news. I could offered a good argument for her to stay, but what was the point really. She would only leave this guy on a gurney or in a paddy wagon. I was was insubstantial in her eyes. Insignificant.

We hugged and that was the last time I would ever see her.

Later, the ex would call just to find out how I was doing, and I in turn would ask her the same questions. She asked about the new girl, to which I replied that things were over with her before they really began.

"Good," the ex replies. "She wasn't all that anyway. You'll be better off without her."