Matters Of Little Consequence

As far as breakups went, ours was Chernobyl.

I thought I’d navigated every kind of romantic scenario, until the Dame tried breaking out the Estella Havisham playbook on me. She torched my curtains and shotgunned my floorboards, most impressively.

It was a couple days after the breakup when Dan told me she was writing all manner of crazy shit about it on her blog. Her Venti vitriolic provided ironic symmetry to our relationship, seeing as how I’d fallen for her writing inside another rant about another guy. I was shocked, annoyed and pissed. I’d called the whole thing off, after which she provided me with every single good reason as to why I was right to do so.

I had no desire to get into a war of words with someone who was using our relationship as the battering ram for everything that had come before it. I wasn’t fool enough to believe her rantings were all about me. I had simply provided her with the necessary antagonist for her latest act. I knew that before long, she’d expend herself, find someone new and move on. Me? I’d use all that emotional fuel to write like a madman. Which is exactly what I did since passion is a muse, no matter the emotion it gets dressed up in.

To say this was a heartbreaking time in my life would be a lie. The proverbial ‘broken heart’ is how we portray bad shit in heart form. And for the purposes of bacon cheeseburger brevity, I use it interchangeably here. But it wasn’t that, it was more significant than that. What it had done was introduce me to the real me. I was a romantic journeyer, searching for the temporary salvation of another but unwilling to pay sticker price. If things hadn’t gone sideways, would I have spent the rest of my life with her? At the beginning of us, I would have issued a resounding yes. But as time went on, it became a very hard maybe.

After it was over, I stopped reading her. Cold turkey. Curiosity kills more than cats, and peeking on someone you’re no longer involved with always struck me as creepy. Instead, I drank wine, I listened to love songs and yes, I cried a few times. There was no use in letting the toxins fester, I had to loose them.

As for the blog, Dan had returned. Of course. He jumped back in with a vengeance, as if expecting me to kiss his ass for coming back. All it did was remind me how important I had become to this fledgling enterprise. Dame had called our blog a “sparrow shit operation” in one of her last emails to me, and I liked that one a lot, even if her intent had been to knee cap me with it. The moniker fit.

The blog karate kicked its way out of our old dojo. We had been gifted a brand new, interactive theme- by one of Dame’s pals ironically. He did it for us gratis while Richie kept planning some grand design for us from his bachelor pad bunker in Jersey. And now we had a podcast to add to the mix. This is where Chris came in. He was Dan’s pal. We’d gotten off on the wrong foot when I refused to post his stuff on the blog. But shit if his writing wasn’t wooden and predictable.

The podcast brought out his Dr. Jekyll. Chris’s voice was the kind of butter that had the girls swooning, and his delivery was a Greg Maddux diamond studded fastball. I would write up a script for the show and email the guys and then we would broadcast from two different locales- Me from my crib and the fellas from Chris’s place.

I remember being a complete disaster in the early innings of our first show. I had zero timing and none of the heat I possessed on the blog. Chris picked up the slack and made it all work, perfectly. During a commercial break, I scarfed down a cigarette and a couple shots of tequila I didn’t know I had. Beer wasn’t going to do the trick, so I made some haste and got back to it. Provided with a salty launch pad, I settled in and found my rhythm. Dan played better on the podcast as well.

Drinking and smoking became a weekly tradition on the podcasts. We expanded to an hour after a couple shows because we were stretching out the material with all the improvised banter that was happening. As with the blog, no topic was off limits. Well, except for one: I’d issued a moratorium on any talk of the Dame.

As the blog’s popularity bled into the podcast, with listeners and our own interactive chat room during podcasts, things were looking more promising than ever. I kept busy, writing more than ever before. I’d also procured the phone number of a girl who tended bar at the Irish pub we frequented. She was my Till Tuesday insurance policy in that she was too young, too nice and she had two young kids. But she made a strong drink, she had a great smile and we clicked. And besides, there was no crime in keeping my options open. I’d have been ashamed at myself for not taking the chance when presented.

It was New Years Eve when she sent me a text wishing me well, and I shot one back in patent fashion. I decided not to follow it up, instead dropping in on a family get together on my way home. It was a couple minutes after midnight when I received a phone call, after which I started formulating excuses as to why I couldn’t meet Till Tuesday. And then the area code punched me in the face. Chicago.

I should have let it go to voicemail. Or turned my phone off . . changed my number . . burned the fucking thing until it was goop. Any of those options made more sense than the one I was about to choose, but it didn’t matter, because I was doing it anyway.

Just like that.

45 thoughts on “Matters Of Little Consequence

  1. B,

    I love how you have come full circle with this – Your original post in which you share your conversation with your friend Jen prior to this second New Year’s “situation”.

    I should think you’d not be surprised by the Dame retaliating on her blog as, like you said, her writing about her ex fueled your fire in the first place. I’m thinking when things are so extreme as the two of you were, there is no way it could work out long term. One of you would end up an auto-combustion statistic. However, it did teach you about you and your wants and your needs. Perhaps a painful lesson, if not heart-breaking. I imagine it is easier to look at it through different eyes today.

    Amazing that you quit reading her cold turkey. Probably a smart move on your part.

    So you focused on the blog and writing and podcasting. Look at you out there front and centre! Kinda wish I knew you when so I could hear it. Sparrow Shit Operation – has a certain je ne sais quoi…

    I’m thinking Till Tuesday served her purpose and at least you were gallant enough to not lead her on too long…

    Perfect song, methinks, to call in the next chapter…

    Q

    Liked by 1 person

    • Q,

      Oh, it ain’t ovah. Although it SHOULD have been, until I decided to answer the fucking phone. Jesus. But really, who’m I kidding. I was going to answer that phone. Because I have a very sick sense of humor and a morbid curiosity. It was a no brainer, and I’m good at those.

      I’ve thought a lot about the term “heartbroken” as I’ve written this. And really, perspective says something else. Was it unpleasant, did it suck majorly, did it hurt like hell? Yes, yes and hells yes. But heart breaking is not the word I could use if being truthful. This doesn’t mean it didn’t matter, because of course it mattered. Very much. It’s hard to explain.

      Oh, I never read anything about an ex. That was always my policy. It just felt intrusive and wrong. I wish them well, but it ain’t my business to look. And with Dame, that was a VERY good thing, LOL.

      Sparrow Shit Operation, buahahaha! She had some classics, tell you what. I mean, I should have been hurt by it, but it was funny! And the way we behaved, it was pretty appropriate.

      I think she wanted to lead me on, that girl. But it wasn’t going to happen. And if Dame hadn’t called, it might have happened but it wouldn’t have gone anywhere. In that respect, it was probably a good thing I went through more of the drama with Dame. Maybe Till Tuesday met a really good guy.

      Now it gets interesting, for me. Because the Gorilla, believe it or not, is near its end by January of 2008. We had half a million hits and yet within the span of like, four or five months, things would take a turn.

      Love Sheryl. She is a sage.

      B

      Liked by 2 people

      • Oh, I know it ain’t ovah! And I think we all would have some sort of morbid curiosity – I know I would.

        I completely understand. I can’t say I’ve ever been heartbroken. I’ve been hurt, disappointed, pissed but heartbroken? That would imply my heart was wholly exposed – thing I’ve never done.

        I get it. But knowing how she wrote about her ex, it could have been tempting to read what she was writing about you – Not necessarily smart but tempting.

        The SSO Show! Too funny.

        Well, you are kinda cute, can’t say I lamer her. I’m sure you put on your most charming self, to boot 😉 But all in all, I’m hoping Till Tuesday did find a good guy.

        Looking forward to finding out just what happened to the Gorilla.

        She is.

        Like

        • I mean, after the way that all went down . . I HAD to know more. As I’ll be sharing in the next couple installments, the breakup was a result of her accusing me of messing around. It was comical until it got serious, and then it was a bloody mess of yelling at each other. But like I said, she had those experiences with her ex and I was paying the bill. Nuh . . uh.

          It’s not even about the heart being vulnerable- which is another misnomer. It’s the fact that apply a literal translation to a euphemism. To me, heartbreak is death. It’s sickness. It’s the stuff there is no coming back from.

          No, I would have had to respond. I wouldn’t have let that shit go then. And that’s what she wanted. To provoke me into a response.

          I might have to use that somewhere, some day. Let her sue me for the rights, LOL.

          Not sure how cute I was, but whatever it was, it was short lived. And yes, though I fear she was one of those girls who loved the bad boys. Ugh, I hope she fixed that.

          Even I’m not sure what happened. Not totally.

          Liked by 1 person

          • Why do we always have to pay for the sins of the previous person?

            And some people allow their heart to get sick over someone. And they never do come back from it.

            You definitely would have had to. And you are right. That’s exactly what she wanted. (Given what you have shared about her.)

            LOL! Uh oh… Don’t go there.

            I’ve no doubt you charmed her. And being a bad boy does have its attraction to some – usually young women.

            Hmm. Guess it is one of those things.

            Like

          • I dunno, it’s in the manual or something, LOL.

            Brain sick is when you forget that you shouldn’t do something just because the rest of you is down with it. So really, you could say I was brain broken in this instance. But like I said, how could I NOT want to see?

            There’s no way I wasn’t going to respond. It would have infuriated me.

            SSO ain’t her property though. But hells, her family was an empire of lawyers, so okay . . never mind.

            Yeah, they need some time to understand the fallacy of that whole thing I guess.

            I couldn’t kick Dan off his own blog, but really, that was what I would have been smart to do.

            Liked by 1 person

          • I guess… I never did read that thing.

            Maybe – thought I think that is a little harsh. How about brain-bruised. You could not.

            So you did.

            Well… maybe just leave that one alone, then. You are quite adept at coining fab phrases yourself.

            Some never learn. Bad boys give you a rush and then leave you “heart-broken” 😉

            I guess you couldn’t, it being his, and all… That would have been quite the move. Mutiny on the Gorilla!

            Liked by 1 person

          • Me neither. Someone needs to write up an abridged version of it.

            Brain bruised, like a melon.

            Didn’t. And thank God. It was already a train wreck, I would have simply added a dozen cars to the pileup.

            I might be able to rework it.

            That they do. It’s in Chapter 51 of the manual.

            Hell, we had everything else.

            Liked by 1 person

          • Dunno that I’d read that version either 😉

            OK. Stawp.

            Sorry. I meant you took the Dame’s call. And yes, smart not to take Till Tuesday’s.

            I have faith in you.

            Which we haven’t read but I have heard bits and pieces of the contents.

            I’ve no doubt.

            Liked by 1 person

          • It was the King James Brolin edition.

            Stawpped.

            I didn’t take Dame’s bait on her blog, but then I answered her phone call, which really . . . I might have been better off taking her bait!

            Why thank you. 🙂

            That Dan . . . bastid.

            But wow, when I think back and realize that within months the worm started to turn (die), it’s really amazing. But again, context was everything.

            Liked by 1 person

          • Well, if it was the King James Brolin edition, that is a whole ‘nother kettle of fish…

            Thanks 😉

            Right. Maybe on “paper” would have been something else…. then again, you obviously still had some learning to do.

            Of course. I got your back.

            Damn Dan.

            I can only imagine. Hindsight, of course…

            Like

          • Uh huh.
            And of course. I like to think we all have some learning to do… And hopefully will continue to do so. 😚
            Another learning experience 😉
            Damn it all.
            There.

            Like

  2. I have never heard this song from SC
    had a nice twang and vibe

    and some of my fav takeaways here:

    his writing wasn’t wooden and predictable.

    and
    she made a strong drink, she had a great smile and we clicked

    Like

    • Yvette,

      I love that song, but then again, I love just about anything Sheryl Crow. She’s good stuff.

      Ugh, Chris tried to be funny when he wrote for the blog, and it didn’t work. But mango slice, could he prosper the airwaves. He was very good at that medium, and it made sense since he had some acting experience. I hadn’t been crazy about doing a podcast, but that all changed thanks to him. It was a lot of fun.

      You know the funny thing? I forget her name. She was a really nice girl, but there was so much craziness from that time. She was friendly with the business side of a drink and she listened and gave thoughtful advice, I do remember that.

      Liked by 1 person

      • re: crow – I like how you called her “sage” in the above comment
        __
        and forgetting the names are another example of how sometimes the essence of a person can remain – even if we never knew the name
        and side note – my hubs and I were just chatting about why we sometimes refer to some folks by both names – I have a colleague that is not just his first name – it is always first and last – and hubs said it was kind of like “time Tebow” always has first and last

        Liked by 1 person

        • I think very highly of her.

          Her essence was strong, a good one. I don’t remember her name and yet, I do remember the peace she afforded me inside a crazy time.

          Hahahaha! Yep. You have officially become Yvette and Prior to me, I didn’t think about it but yes! My cousin’s name is Yvette. Lovely name.

          I love Tebow! I wish a team would have signed him. Okay, he wasn’t a great QB. But he was so much fun!

          Like

  3. Dear Marco,

    It seems that everything’s been said, I do understand how strong emotions. Some of my best writing for me has been in times of great angst and anger. I tend to be one of those who feels things to soaring heights and cratered depths. Someone told me that’s a gift artists tend to have. (Writers included 😉 ) It’s a gift in that we have the ability to convey those emotions in our art. For what it’s worth, at the time I was told this, I was a mime. At any rate, I sometimes see this gift as a curse.
    Okay…now that I’ve wandered off into blathering Me-Ville I’ll leave you with a compliment. You have a way of articulating things that evokes a wealth of emotions with cutting edge wit.
    I hope I’m making sense. I’ll back out of the room now. Good morning.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    Liked by 1 person

    • Rochelle,

      It can be both. But inside trying times, it definitely helps to have something with which to steer, or more to the truth, to have something that steers you.

      Maybe it’s a defense mechanism. For when life goes one way while my knobby knees were busy cutting a different way. The heart breaking element of this story was that she was a wonderful person, underneath a lot of damage. Friendship would have been a better idea, a much better idea. But isn’t that the way hindsight goes?

      You made perfect sense. I hope I made sense.

      Good morning! Thank you for another lovely hello. 🙂

      Shalom,

      Marco

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Cheryl’s song kind of hits you square between the ears. I mean, who among us hasn’t dipped into the cesspool of love gone bad more than once? Makes me wonder why I too often make the same mistakes when choosing the next Till Tuesday?

    Kudos for going cold turkey on the blog reading. I’m of the opinion when someone leaves, no point in pouring salt into any wounds, eh? They had a reason for leaving and it makes no good sense trying to eek out some sort of even minor or peripheral contact. Isn’t that kind of like semi-stalking?

    Liked by 1 person

  5. hey – remember recently we had a little chat about number stickers – well I saw this car and thought of our chat – had to grab a pic to show ya (because I guess sometimes we just have to do this – eh?)

    Liked by 1 person

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