Tuesday, September 15, 2009

You Get a Little Drunk and You Land in Jail

So the other day, I'm running through my various gmail accounts. I have six of them, and it takes about a minute to check all of them, unless there's an actual email demanding my attention, like maybe I need to send a recipe to EFU or remind one of my married sub cocksuckers that it will still be a couple of weeks before I can host again or explain to Bank of America any unusual charges out of my bank account last month, which makes me wonder whether using my debit card to spend $12 for condoms at CVS is going to cause my lender to abandon me in my hour of home ownership. But this time around, the only email I had was a notification that I had a new message on one of my facebook accounts, and the name of the person who'd sent that message was suspiciously identical to the name of that guy that I spent the night with once, maybe six months ago, and who subsequently spent three months as a guest of the DC prison system.

And my immediate thought is, "Oh, shit, this guy's pissed off that when his fiancee -- whom I did not know to exist -- texted me to tell me that he was in jail, I thought he was texting me and joking around, and now he's going to hunt me down and disembowel me for telling his girlfriend that he's gay. It's a good thing I'm moving soon. I hope b&c doesn't give up my new location under torture." But then I log on to facebook and it's just a "Hey, how's it going?" or maybe a "Hey, what's up? message," and part of me says, "Just walk away, TED. WALK. AWAY." But another part of me just can't help trying to figure what the hell is up with this guy, so I write on his wall or whatever and then I search a couple of email accounts until I figure out which one we used to correspond under, and it's not the email account linked to that facebook account, which makes me think that he must have found me by searching by (phony Internet) name. And I don't think my (phony Internet) name is all that uncommon, so there are probably TEDs all over the place wondering who the hell Rafael (Is that what I called him? Who can remember?) is and why he's writing on their walls.

There's no way in hell that I'm communicating with anybody via Facebook, though, so I send him a generic what's-up e-mail, and he writes back, that he's good and how am I, and I check his Facebook profile, and it says that his status has changed, over the past few days, from married to single to it's complicated. Complicated: understatement much? And after a couple of emails, he writes that he's almost got his license back and that he's in a relationship and doing some side jobs, so I write back to ask whether that's with his fiancee, and he replies, "Wife, actually," and I'm about as WTF as I've ever been at that point, but after "Wife, actually," he writes that sometimes he just gets the urge for that little something, which prompts me to ask whether he doesn't mean an urge for a big something, and he says something about liking to be stretched, but that he hasn't had any for so long that he's just sooooo tight right now, and I can't help asking, "But didn't you get plenty of thick black cock in the D.C. jail?" Which in many contexts could be considered a rude question, but, seriously, didn't he?

But Rafael doesn't seem at all nonplussed, he just writes back that the 90 days of hell was meant to be 30 days, and he says that he doesn't remember telling me that he was going to jail, but he doesn't seem angry, either. I reply that someone else told me, and I ask whether the incarceration was related to his meth addiction, and then he loses his cool a bit: the non comes off the nonplussed, but he doesn't actually use either "nonplussed" or "plussed," so I am robbed of the chance to say, "LISTEN YOU MANWHORE COCKSUCKER, I DON'T ESPECIALLY MIND THAT YOU WERE ENGAGED AND TOLD ME YOU WERE SINGLE OR THAT YOU STOOD ME UP REPEATEDLY WITH BOGUS EXCUSES OR THAT I NEARLY SHIT MYSELF WHEN I REALIZED THAT I'D JUST TOLD YOUR FIANCEE THAT YOU'RE GAY OR EVEN THAT KNOWING THAT SHE WENT AHEAD AND NOT ONLY DIDN'T DUMP YOUR SORRY JAILHOUSE ASS BUT ACTUALLY MARRIED YOU OR THAT YOU WENT ALONG WITH IT AND MARRIED HER EVEN THOUGH WE BOTH KNOW THE ONLY THING YOU WANT IS TO BE PLOWED FROM BOTH ENDS UNTIL YOU PASS OUT AND THAT YOUR METH ADDICTION MEANS YOU CAN'T GET IT UP IN THE FIRST PLACE BUT I WILL NOT SIT IDLY BY WHILE YOU CREATE INCORRECT BACKFORMATIONS, DOUCHEBAG." Besides, that wouldn't, strictly speaking, be true: I am still sort of upset about the back and forth with his fiancee. The rest of it, well, shit happens, you know? Especially the standing up with lame excuses part. And, really, in my experience, when someone stands you up, you just switch to Man B, and Man B is more often than not more fun than Man A. Men that bail on you at the last minute tend not to be all that great in the sack.

Anyway, he sends me a couple more messages about how he was in jail because he assaulted a cab driver who called him a faggot and about how he only smokes pot, and not even that since January, but he's never done meth, and I need to "get [my] shit/story straight," but I'm back to being some combination of a) slightly scared of him and b) grateful that he apparently doesn't know what I said to his fiancee. I'm hopeful that I won't hear from him again, but it's more likely that he'll send a few more emails. I reckon I'll just have to tell him that I already have enough married guys in my line up. I'll probably avoid adding that none of them do meth.

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