Bob and the sinking Titanic that is our relationship

Bonnie and Clyde

Bonnie and Clyde

Do you remember when “Titanic” first came out on VHS and it had two VHS tapes and you would put the first one in and watch the love affair unfold but never watch the second simply because it was so chaotic and we all knew everyone died except Rose, Rose’s stiff uppity bitch of a mother, and Kathy Bates? I’m going to now detail for you my relationship with my soul mate. (If such thing exists.) This is a very long tale, like the fucking movie, but a valuable relationship lesson indeed. I’m going to detail it like the VHS movie. Tape A. Tape B. This is Tape A. The love affair. And this weeks post.

Bob (let’s call him Bob. I feel a need to protect identities as much as possible as to not defame anyone. However, Bob has done enough to defame himself. You can find him on the state’s felon registry..) happens to be a very pivotal person who has been a part of my existence for 26 years. We have a very sordid love affair that has been woven and spoiled many times over with love, accusations, hatred, loyalty, animal magnetism, humor, and distrust. It should be stated that at this current place in my life, my hatred for him burns steadily and I physically can feel it in my gut and in my bones just thinking about it. But alas..if he plopped on my doorstep today, I don’t think I could turn him away so easily.  Because I can’t. Because we happen to be fools for each other. Maybe me more so than him.

I was six years old when I first met Bob. (We joked in our adulthood (when we were in love with each other ) we would get one of those license plates like old people have that say “Bud and Karen ‘62” except ours would say “Bob and Samantha ‘86“.) Bob would do all the things little boys do when they are in love with their young object of affection. He teased me mercilessly, chased me, and sought me out continuously from grade school on up.

In middle school, Bob started flourishing by being known as the class clown. Our relationship changed then from one of total hatred (on my end) to a friendship which we both treasured because we understood each other. It was quickly becoming evident to me Bob had this charisma about him that drew everyone to him. He was funny, but he was also funny at his own expense. At the end of our 8th grade year, a kid dared Bob to light a match in the library. He did. And he set fire to books. Since this wasn’t his first offense, the school board elected him a lost cause, and voted to expel him from public school. This would be where his public school career ended and his decent into a convict lifestyle began.

His parents (the crazies they were..and still are) decided any contact for Bob with the outside world was prohibited to him. They put him on lockdown. Rebelling against their oppression, Bob would call me everyday before his parents got home from work.  His mother found out about our afternoon chat sessions, and called me one evening to ask me to not contact Bob. This prompted her to start bringing the phone with her to work so he would have no way of contacting anyone while he was home. My mother was appalled by this. She bought him a phone to hide in the house so he could have some sort of normality in his existence, and our afternoon conversations commenced. Things became increasingly interesting once we received our drivers licenses. We became best friends. If he was Clyde, I was Bonnie. When he was able to sneak out of the house, he would always come get me. A few memories:

One time, we went grocery shopping, and I was fiddling with some stupid toy from the toy section, when the cashier asked if we had paid for it. I was about the put it on the conveyer belt when Bob said “No she brought it in. She takes it with her everywhere. She’s handicapped”. The cashier looked at me, then back at him, and shrugged. We left the store with it, unpaid.

There was the time he lied to his parents to get the car and told them he wanted to go to church. Pleased, they consented and he headed straight over to my house, explaining where we were going, and I had to pretend to be his cousin, Beth. So as cousin Beth I went, and we played it off quite nicely until we sat down for the sermon. All it took was 10 minutes. 10 minutes of being told the earth was going to end and I was so freaked out by what was being preached, I demanded we got out of there immediately.

Bob got his first job at the local grocery store, as did Charlotte Grant. They worked together and were mutual friends with a girl who Bob actually started dating. To appease Bob and his girlfriend, Charlotte would punch them in and out if they were taking extended lunches so they wouldn’t get in trouble. Their luck ran out when Charlotte got caught and admitted to the whole dirty scheme. They all got fired. As Charlotte likes to tell it, Bob got her fired from her first job. (Let’s just say she does not have the personal wishy-washy feelings I do. She hates him through and through.)

On a day I was visiting, his parents came home earlier than expected. Freaked out, Bob decided it was best that he hide me by locking me in a room over the garage so he could try sneaking me out without them seeing. When they pulled up and got out of the car, right away they started asking who’s car that was in the driveway. And since I was curious as to what was going on, I went to look out the window.  While his dad was grilling him about my car, he looked up and saw me, completely awestruck by (a) Bob had locked me in a room and (b) his parents actually did exist in human form. His dad marched upstairs and let me out. That was awkward. Very, very, awkward.

We tried dating then, however it didn’t last very long and soon after we broke up, he impregnated a 15 year old girl who already had one and now another on the way. His parents, always the ones to fly in and fuck everything up, felt the right thing for him to do was marry this girl, and marry he did. By 18, he was married with 2 kids to take care of. And our friendship, although still there, took a turn where I wasn’t interested in hanging out with a married man with kids.

When I was 19, I started working for a local financial institution and worked my way up very quickly to personal banker in less than a year. Bob came to me to open a checking account, and quickly started kiting checks. I was contacted by risk management of the situation and was told if I didn’t get the money back, I could be terminated for opening the account. Extremely pissed off, I did the only thing I could which I knew would render the desired results. I contacted his mother and told her if Bob didn’t pay the deficiency in the account, the bank would look to press charges. Always the sucker for her delinquent son, his mom wrote me a check for the deficiency, which I applied to the account and closed. I was so pissed he would take advantage of me in that way, and I ended our friendship at that time. If only I would have held on to those pissed off feelings for what waited down the road of life for us.

End of Tape A. For next week, Tape B. And believe me, this titanic also had a shortage of lifejackets.


M and my dependency on her predictions which in essence fucked up my 2013


I have a love of the supernatural. When I was in high school, first thing I would do when I got home every Wednesday (or Thursday, I don’t remember accurately)  was rush the remote control and turn on The Montel Williams Show because he had Sylvia Browne on. (That world renowned soothsayer with nails that could climb the empire state building and a voice only a pack a day smoker can provide.) I would sit in awe from 4 o’clock to 5 of her predictions and her ethereal explanations to people regarding if they were going to have children, what happened to loved ones who disappeared, what happened to Grandma Jane’s money, where is Uncle Jack’s garden hoe, so on and so forth.

Since my downward spiral into mystisim started at a younger age, my obsession with it should come as no surprise. About 7 years ago, I mentioned to a family member I wanted to see a psychic, which to my astonishment, they recommended theirs.

Enter and Welcome M to my life.

M is everything you could ask for in a psychic. She’s short, means business, and you feel really uncomfortable around her. I don’t remember the first time I saw her and what she said, but it was enough to bring me back a second time. The second time I saw her I was life altering. I was, at the time, languishing in my current career choice, felt stuck in a relationship with a nice guy I was progressively loathing, and had this incredibly antsy feeling that was driving me insane all the time. She told me:

The reason I felt antsy was my life was going to change drastically.

My relationship would end, but not in the way I was expecting.

I would leave my current job and attain my dream job. I would leave my current job end of April and start my new one early May.

And Holy Shit. Everything happened exactly the way she predicted. My life did change. My relationship broke up (He left me first which I did not see coming since my plan was to dump his ass as soon as I got to where I was going), I attained that dream job early April and left the languishing one around the same time, started my new in early May. I was astonished. Astonished by how accurate she had been. And like a heroin addict, all it takes is one time. I was hooked. She became a 6 month check-up. When her predictions ran out, I was back for more insight to my destiny. And soon I wasn’t the only one. I had friends all hooked on her as well. Here we were, all strung out on these life predictions, feigning for a fix as soon as the spiritual nile ran dry. That is..until last November.

Last November, a friend had an M party. (This psychic throws parties, which is fantastic because you can all get together, eat a bunch of shitty, fatty sustenance we call food, and help each other decode M’s predicitions into our fate.) At this point in my life, I was riding a wave of life high. My life was going fabulously well. My job was, well, what it was, I was dating a guy (refer to Mr. Mountain Dew, 3rd post) who I was convinced was Mr. Right, everything was clicking like a clock work. That is, until my turn to see M came up.

She confirmed my suspicions. She said “I see an airplane taking off. You have finally hit your stride. You have your circle of peeps, which is good because they are your forever friends. I see a man, a very handsome man, you are with right now. Things are going to keep going really well and I’m seeing you two married by July of next year (this was 2012 she meant 2013, which I’m getting there) and I see a promotion in the future, very soon. You have waited a very long time for work to notice your talents and now the right people are in place to help you along. You’re in a really good place! Enjoy it!

People..let me tell you what really happened.

Two weeks later, after having sex for the first time, Mr. Right got all weird and stopped calling, to which I had a nervous break down (to be fair, it was a long time coming) and ended my ass up in a psychiatric hospital (partially admitted they call it) for a week to deal with the tail spin of depression this catapulted me into. This was first week of December.  (New Year, My friends and I decided a great resolution for me was to keep my ass out of the loony bin.)  January, I had to trade in my Sebring Convertible (which I adored) for a sedan Chrysler 200 because Charlotte Grace’s (the St.Bernard’s) big ass couldn’t crawl into it anymore. February, March, well, a promotion was in the works for me. However, it kept getting pushed back, and pushed back, and pushed back until the time of my undoing (read 1st post) and I got my ass fired. I lost a best friend in this debacle as well (refer to Friendager’s post), June I didn’t know what I was going to do, enter in Meredith Montgomery McKay who saved my ass…again. Started this blog in July, had to cancel my bomb ass cruise I had planned with MMM and Nick Hackett because of money issues, thought I was going to be famous by now but am not, which brings me to August yes, newly employed, but still not famous. (Oh, so far in September I bought a lawnmower, which didn’t work, brought it back, bought a new one didn’t work till the pops figured out I was putting bad gasoline in them.)        JE——SUS!!!!! On a God Damn Crotchrocket!!! (That was for you MMM and Nick Hackett)

Lesson #384-Be highly cautious if you decide to see a psychic because, the truth is,  you’re playing with your future. Never, ever go see a psychic when life is going great. Why? Because you need confirmation it’s going well?? That’s Stupid. I did, and everything got fucked by confirming it. Once confirmed, I diverted the direction of my future. All my walls came down and left me exposed emotionally. Mr. Mountain Dew got freaked out because I started moving at the speed of lightning regarding our relationship. When he left, my future for the first time had no obvious pattern, which I was used to having. Now it was my turn to freak the fuck out, and freak out I did.  Instead, go when things are really bad and can’t get much worse. I’m finding, that in my case, M is more accurate when my soul is in dire straits.

(It should be noted that after this November experience, none of us have gone back. We all felt the decisions we have made in the last 6 months were mostly motivated by her predictions, and our lives could have taken more plausible courses if we had not seen her that fateful night in November. It’s like what Kid Rock said about Pam. “Sometimes fire is just that, too hot to touch.”