Don't Be That Guy

Thanks, everyone, for all your supportive comments on my last post about my family. They are very much appreciated.

ZomBee, I think everyone feels in some way selfish when they lose someone close. It's part of what makes the grieving process so awkward, in a way; it makes talking about the death with your remaining friends and relatives that much more difficult. You're not sure if you should share your own stories...you don't want to offend anybody, since they're already on edge anyway...but you don't want to act like you're ignoring the whole thing, either. I feel like I'm almost getting used to this process.

I'm back from the little road-trip with my mother now, and somehow still sane. She hates my driving and I hate hers, so the two of us stuck in the car together is not always pleasant. I made a deliberate effort to drive more conservatively than I usually do so she would have nothing to complain about, and she still kept telling me to back off, slow down, stop tailgating, be more patient...

Might I point out that it was she who taught me to drive like I do. Then when I got my license, she had a sudden born-again-driver epiphany and became a perfect angel. Former smokers are the worst about telling you to quit, right?


I've been struggling to revive my computer for a week and a half now, as it has died three times in ten days, twice with a virus and once due to Kevin's cats knocking a vase of water into it. I finally convinced my mother to give me dad's old laptop and just put the hard drive from mine into it, so here I am again.

Time for the soap opera update. The drama of this current week happened on Monday. I called Kevin at work to ask for his computer password, because I needed access to the internet to help in fixing my own machine. He hesitated a surprisingly long time in giving it to me, so that by the time he did I was wondering just what exactly he was hiding. While I have no real reason to be suspicious of him, mistrust of one's self often leads to mistrust of others, especially those closest to us. So when I logged in, I opened up his documents and starting poking around.

There wasn't much, since he keeps almost everything on the house server, which made it all the easier to spot a folder labeled Wicca. It was the only thing even vaguely interesting, so I opened it up and took a look around. There was an empty folder and four files. All of those files were love spells.

To break for just a second for necessary background, I first heard of Wicca when I was thirteen, and for the last eight years I've been struggling in the void between a certain pull that it has on me and my own fear. I wasn't too afraid of it until I got close to one of my exes, who at the time I wasn't even dating yet. Through a convoluted mess of stories, lies, and pure wishful blindness on both of our parts, she managed to completely disenchant me with anything and everything occult, to the point where I am now terrified of all the above. And it's still part of me and always has been (see my post where I encountered a spirit one night after an exam about a month ago). I am terrified of myself.

When I met Kevin and learned that he was Wiccan, I was cautious but also excited, thinking maybe this was my opportunity to ask questions of someone more experienced and be able to sort out my ex's stupidity from reality and get rid of my fear. That went great for a little while, but I couldn't seem to get past my past, as it were, and I eventually gave up again. I had explained everything to him, but I really think there is no way for anyone but me to fully understand just exactly how much some of these things scare me.

Perhaps you can imagine the reaction when I found those spells in his computer, dated during the month we were broken up. I threw all my important things in the car (minus my computer, since it wasn't working anyway), put on my shoes and my glasses, shoved my car keys in my pocket, and paced the living room until he got home. I don't remember if I ever had the intention to attempt a civil conversation, but it didn't happen. As he walked in the door, I was pacing out of the kitchen, and I stopped and glared.

"Hi," he greeted me.

"Hi," I said back, probably failing at even the fake smile. He hadn't even put his things down, but I couldn't hold myself back. "So whatever happened," I asked, my voice rising with every word, "To not messing with someone's FREE FUCKING WILL!" I pointed accusingly at the screen of his computer, where I'd left the folder and one of the spells open. "LOVE SPELLS!" My voice cracked, and I knew I sounded hysterical. Well, I was.

Kevin dropped his things and bent over to inspect the computer, looking utterly confused. I can't even remember what he said; I think I probably screamed over him anyway.

"I never cast," I know he said at some point, but I barely cared.

"It doesn't matter, you have them, that's what matters!" I said.

"But things were going fine with just us talking, I didn't need them," he answered.

"Oh, so you would've used them if I hadn't come back, then!" I accused.

"No!"

"Yes, or you wouldn't have them!"

He tried to put his hands on my arms, and I backed away. "Don't touch me!" I demanded. He lifted his hands, but wouldn't get out of my way as I tried to reach the front door. "Let me go, damn it!"

"Please talk to me," he said, but he wasn't begging. It was more of an order. Again, I didn't care.

"Let me go!" It was clear he had no intention of that, so I went to the sliding glass door in the kitchen and lifted out the security bar, holding it like a weapon while I unlocked the slider. By the time I was reaching for the lock on the screen, he was in my way again.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I repeated, but he wouldn't move. I waved the bar around, but even I knew I wouldn't use it.

Kevin stood against the door. "Hit me," he said.

"What?"

"Hit me," he ordered me.

"No! Just let me go!" I don't remember dropping the bar, but I must have done at some point before I started reaching for the latch on the screen door again. He held out his arm, but I reached around him, struggling with the sticky latch. The door finally opened, but he was in the space I needed to get out. I pushed at him uselessly; he's a lot bigger than I am.

"Fuck off!" I yelled. I was a caged animal, crazed with panic, unaware of anything but the obstacle in my way. I don't know why, but he finally backed off. I shot out the door and down the porch stairs, embedding a splinter in my hand as I went. I charged up the hill, jumped in the car, and reversed out of the driveway as fast as I could as Kevin came running out the front door. The tires screeched as I took off up the hill. I was nearly hyperventilating.

Reaching the bottom of the hill, I considered turning left in case he was following me, then decided he wasn't dumb enough to do that and turned right, following my normal route. I slowed down when I came up behind another car. Glancing in my rearview, I saw the pickup truck closing in behind me.

"Fuck," I muttered, in disbelief that he had caught up so fast. Without taking the time to think about the stupidity of such a move, I rammed on the gas and passed the car in front of me, over the double-yellow and around a curve, in a place where getting hit would land me and my car in the river. Fortunately no one was coming. Kevin passed right behind me and caught me up at the stop sign.

Traffic was heavy, and I couldn't lose him on the two-lane road, so I hit the interstate, where my 6-cylinder car would have the advantage over his pickup truck. It took me a few minutes to lose him, and he caught up again when I hit a bottle-neck and was forced to slow down. As soon as I got free, I jammed it up to 125, knowing his truck wouldn't go over 110. When as he was out of sight, I tore off an exit ramp and headed out into the back roads.

I figured he would go straight to Wren's place and wait for me, so I made sure it took me about six hours to get there. When I did, he wasn't there and neither was she, and I spent the night by myself in a peaceful bubble.

~

I started writing this post last week and then saved it, and I no longer have the impetus to finish it in the same amount of detail I used to start it. So long story short, I went to the house after class the next day, because I needed my computer, to find that Kevin had changed the locks on me. Knowing his paranoid security fetish the way I do, I knew there was no way for me to get into the house, so after calling Wren and bitching vociferously, I drove to Kevin's office with the intent of having his head off.

So what happened? You probably already know. We made up. Things went back to normal (except there's no tread left on my tires, and my brakes are glazed).

We've become that psychotic couple whose friends just laugh when they fight because they seem to do it for fun. Wren commented to me, "I don't understand you guys!" and my reply was, "Neither do I anymore."

I always wondered what the hell was wrong with people like that - like us - to make them stay with each other, when breaking up seems to be the obvious necessity. Now I have no idea what to say in response to myself, as I am now "that guy" and I can't seem to walk away.