Monday, January 14, 2013

(Article) You Cry, I Cry, We Cry Together. You Stalk, I Stalk, Wait, This Seems Excessive By: Jennifer Sanchez




“I’ve called him 4 times.  I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on me,” my friend , Lydia*, tells me.  
There comes a few moments in life when you look at your friend, shake your head slowly, and think, “She’s crazy.  My friend is actually out of her mind.  Okay, I can get with it. “
“I’ve also sent him 3 texts, left a voicemail, and checked his Facebook.  I think he’s sleeping with that bitch that he works with.  I’m going to his apartment to confront that lying piece of shit.  Want to come with me?”

***

Lydia has been on and off with her boyfriend, Hank*, for two years.  He is a piece of shit man who is not only almost ten years her senior, but he will disappear for WEEKS at a time.  Homeboy will be attentive, sweet, and loving only to suddenly stop answering her phone calls and texts for days.  
Best story to describe him: One day they made plans to go to the beach for the weekend.  They were going to leave on a Friday.  Lydia took the day off work, bought a new swimsuit, and packed all of her things.  They talked Thursday night to confirm plans.  Friday morning, he called and said he was leaving his apartment to go pick her up.  She said she was going to go to Whole Foods and did he want anything.  He asked for pretzels and a Ginger Ale and told her he would be at her house in 45 minutes.  She went and picked up the snacks.  He never showed up.  I’ll let that shit marinate for a little bit.
HE NEVER SHOWED UP.  Imagine how fucking tragic that must of felt, in her home, with pretzels and Ginger Ale in hand.  First of all, who drinks Ginger Ale?  I get it if your stomach is queasy (and perhaps Hank’s stomach was queasy from KNOWING HE WAS ABOUT TO STAND UP HIS GIRLFRIEND) but as a refreshing beverage?  No.  She couldn’t even enjoy the drink herself.  And now she had this family size bag of pretzels, mocking her in her own damn house.  
She called to check on him (Did he get a flat tire?  Did he forget her address?  WAS HE DEAD?!), but he didn’t answer.  He called back.  Three weeks later.  He said he freaked out because of “he was scared”.  He’s such a sorry ass little man. 
Unfortunately, my sweet, funny, loving friend Lydia was infatuated with him.  And when girls really like someone, they do some crazy ass shit.  And as their friend, you want to step in and save them because you know what they are doing is INSANE.  And you know they deserve better. You want to slap them in the face and scream, “HEY!  What is wrong with you?!  DO YOU THINK BEYONCE WOULD PUT UP WITH THIS SHIT?!” (If there are any marketing majors out there reading this, let me know your feelings on possible WWBD? [What Would Beyonce Do?] bracelets.  I think I’m onto something and with her new GQ cover, we gotta strike while the iron is still hot.  Get at me.)
So here I am, being her ride-along in the umpteenth time we have gone to stalk her boyfriend.  My friend has waited outside her boyfriend’s apartment to “catch him in the act” and/or “confront him” more times that I can count.  And I’ve been there for all of them.  College Park, MD is now my second home.
I have crouched down in the car with her, lights turned off, parked across the street from his complex, eating Flaming Hot Cheetos while waiting to see if he came home until 2 in the morning.  I’ve been in his hallway, sitting on the stairwell, while Lydia leans up against his door, listening for any signs of life/television/sex with possible-side-jaunt-that-has-yet-to-be-discovered.  I was with her when we went to six local bars, trying to figure out which one he might be at (we are now very good friends with every bouncer in that area.  Shout out to Steve- your knowledge on Hank sightings were priceless.  Thank you- JS),  
I was with her when we went to his job after he couldn’t meet up with her because he was going to “spend a few hours in the office”.  (Another special shout out to all the UMD police officers that never gave me a ticket even though they continuously saw my car driving by way too often and way too slowly.  I’m pretty sure I’m on a “Possible Sexual Predator” list).  I have been in his lobby, talking to his neighbors, trying to figure out if he’s brought home any strange girls lately and asking them to recollect the “last time they saw his car in the parking lot.” I have even stood in this very same parking lot next to his car while Lydia went up to talk to him, in case he decided to make a run for it.
Is this all crazy?  Abso-fucking-lutely.  I have been through two years of stakeouts, drive-bys, and confrontations.  I’ve also been through two years of crying, heartbreak, and heated rants of her screaming that she’s done, this is it, she can’t deal with it, she’s not taking him back…even though we both know she will. 
Sometimes girlfriends just do crazy ass shit.  In the end, they are going to do what they want to do, and if it’s about a guy, it’s going to be nuts.  But if that’s your friend, you listen, you call him every bad name you can think of, and then tell her you’ll come, but she’s got to pay for the snacks. 



PS-  Eventually, Lydia did catch him cheating.  How did she figure it out?  She took his default Facebook photo, and then found the girl’s page and took her photo, put it in Photoshop and did some weird inverse color thing and compared cloud formations.  He ended up admitting it, she dumped him, and now she’s dating a great, new guy, while he’s still a loser.  

*Lydia and Hank are not their real names, but taken from Charles Bukowski’s “Women”- their favorite book. 





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