Is it November yet?

Now, just writing that title hurts me to the core.  From that title one could rightly infer that I want time to jump ahead to November, thus skipping over the best of all holidays for me—Halloween.  And one would partially be right.

Halloween, nay all of October, is the time where my friends and I are the closest.  We all love horror movies and dedicate just about every weekend in October to viewing them together.  We plan our Netflix queues around the month, and we make sure to get our essentials out of the way (Halloween, Trick r Treat, Hocus Pocus, etc.) and many more.  We gather in large groups and watch, cackle, jump, and savor the time.  We carve pumpkins, eat obscene amounts of candy corn, hang out, and just enjoy our time together.  Please don’t think that we’re gothic trolls—wearing too much make up, too much black, and too much shame to go out in public.  We just love Halloween.  It’s something we all look forward to all year and it has to do not only with the time, the scent of autumn, the turning away from the ghastly heat of summer, but with the closeness we have all throughout the year, which is intensified for that month.

So, for me to be leaning forward, reaching toward that time when the Halloween festivities are over and a whole year away, is not only out of character for me, it’s bordering on insanity.  But, nevertheless, that’s what I’m doing, and I’m doing it for various reasons.

First, my writing goals.  I have plans for myself and deadlines I plan to stick to.  November will be a deciding month, one way or another.  Second, because certain things at work will have passed over and the newness of my recent promotion will have worn away, as will the sharp edges of the haters who wish for the promotion I received.

But most of all, the thing which brought me here to this horrible conclusion, this wish for the hastening of time, is, unfortunately, a negative motivator.  November 1st is the absolute earliest that the troglodyte fembot that is my roommate Stacey will be the fuck out of this apartment, the state, and my life.

Stacey and I had The Talk, and it went well.  He has an opportunity to become a yoga instructor in another state where the market is neither crowded nor discerning.  Do I think he’s rushing it?  Yes.  Do I think he’s taking his newest fad and seeing it as an out for all the things he doesn’t like about his life?  Of course.  Am I afraid that he is blundering ahead without aim or thought into a potentially disastrous situation?  Yes.  Am I scared for him because he seems to be skipping along the brink of the Cliffs of Idiocy without a place to stay, an apartment to live in, or an ounce of savings to help him through the hard times?  Yes.

But the one thing in life you cannot control is the actions of others.  And that’s fine.

If you have read almost any of my previous posts, you will know that Stacey seems to be mentally in high school, locked in a desperate struggle to eke out any attention he can get, be it negative, positive, unwillingly given, or baldly reaching.  He’s up to his old antics…well, “old” would imply that he had set them aside for something good, for the smallest sliver of normalcy or tact or decorum.  He has not.   So, he’s up to his typical antics, and this time he seems to have sniffed and gotten high off the musty buttocks of Idiocy and come away high on the fumes which make up his psyche.

His only two friends have fled to another state.  Not, as one might imagine, to get away from Sailor Pretensia, but because one of them is from the state in question and so they decided to move back there.  Never terribly popular, Stacey has since latched onto any of my friends who will allow it in a clinging which would embarrass even the most wanton of giant squid.  He hangs out with one friend of mine in an incidental sort of way.  We will call him…Edwin.  Edwin is one of my best friends ever; I would trust the man with my life.  Edwin used to hang out with Stacey’s two friends who have left the state, so he is in contact with Stacey on an occasional basis.

Stacey was going to go to a concert and asked Edwin if he would go.  Edwin declined but suggested that another friend of ours go, Abel.  Now, Abel is, for his type, rather cute.  He likes younger guys.  Younger CUTE guys.  Stacey is neither young nor cute.  Stacey and Abel went to the concert together and, in typical fashion, Stacey vomited out all the tidbits of information he had ever heard about Abel—someone he likely would never have met or hung out with were it not for a random twist of fate.  So, I get a text from Abel essentially asking how the hell Stacey knew anything about him and why he had called Abel a “twink-obsessed chicken hawk”.  (A line which was said in jest by me to someone else when Stacey happened to be in the room.  It was neither clever nor witty, but it was likely better than Stacey could come up with after a month of meditation and a Google search.)

Now, any human would think, would know, that if he heard two people discussing a friend he had never met and was never intended to, that he shouldn’t puke up anything and everything he had ever heard in an attempt to sound well-informed, popular, and special.  This is called “tact” and/or “discretion”.  I think even Stacey knows this, but his need to seem popular and wonderful and part of the group overrode any sense there was racketing around in the empty cavity that is his head.  Is Abel mad at me?  Who the fuck knows or cares?  I doubt it, because I wasn’t the only one he texted.  He also sent a text to another friend of mine, Katherine.

Now, I know Stacey has heard Kat and I talking about Abel.  Like I mentioned, he just vomited that information out.  Apparently, Stacey is talking to Kat now, which I knew.  How?  Why?  He is offering both Kat and Abel free services at the spa he works at.  If you can’t make friends on your own, win them over with gifts, right?  *sigh*

In the past Stacey has tried to move away in some sudden surge of flightiness.  The first time he gave me three weeks of notice before the lease was up.  The second time he gave me five weeks.  A third time, there were still months and months left in the lease.  He didn’t go ONLY because the jobs he thought he would get fell through and the “friends” he thought he could stay with told him “hell no”.  There was no loyalty or concern for the lease or the bind this would put me in.

Every year that we have lived together he has waited until the last possible moment to sign the lease renewal.  I believe this is to try to give the appearance that he has power.  As I got more and more raises and promotions at work, Stacey started to realize that I COULD live on my own, but it would be a financial hardship.  I have had to ask him, “Are you going to sign the lease or do I have to start packing?”  He would wait a day or so and then sign the lease, but not mention it to me.

It got to the point that two of my friends (Beverly and Zhaviera) told me it was bullshit that I had to constantly wonder from day to day if I would have to pack and get out.

Now, in his chats with Kat, Stacey has informed her that he would NEVER move away without more than a few months’ notice and the lease is ALWAYS signed on time and months and months in advance, at that.  He implied that he gave up on jobs and opportunities because of me.  I heard this offal today and my mouth literally dropped open.  All I could stutter out was, “What…The…Fuck?”  Yeah, I told him off on those occasions, but if that would stop you, then you weren’t serious in the first place.

Now that he’s into yoga and a is better person *cough, FALSE, cough* he has this need to make himself seem more giving and courteous, so he’s repainting the past with the colors of delusion and outright lies.  No rose-tinted glasses here.  These glasses are smeared with shit and the sweat from so boldly lying in the presence of people who are close to me and know what I have had to deal with.

So, he’s doing his damnedest to weasel in on my friends and my space.  I don’t want to come home and look at his face, or to see his car in his parking spot.  Does he really think I want to spend my free time with him?  Well, he doesn’t care…and that’s fine, too.  It’s his life and he can talk to whomever he wants.  I can’t say, “These are MY friends, so stay away, idiot!”

I did purposefully stay away from Stacey’s friends (the two who fled the state—very nice people, indeed) for him, because he’s overly possessive of his friends and has in the past accused me of trying to steal people from him.  *stare*  Well, when you have only two, I imagine you would become rather protective of them.  And that was my decision.  I’m not saying that Stacey should divine from the heavens that I stayed away from his two friends because I didn’t want to hear his shit.  And, even if he had, it’s not his responsibility to do the same for me.  It was my choice so as not to cuss profusely and without coherence if he dared to accuse me of stealing people from him.

*Dot Warner voice*  “I can’t help it if I’m cuuuuuuuuuute!”  *cackle, gagging on my own ego*

But, Stacey is a lonely, desperate creature.  I do feel bad for him, I do.  I also am not threatened by Stacey.  My friends like him in a casual sort of way, because he usually behaves in front of them.  My friends have other friends.  This does not diminish what I have with them or our friendship, or what it is that makes us friends.  They can be friends with Stacey all they want.  I couldn’t stop this and I wouldn’t want to.

But this.  This shit.  It’s horrible—the attention grabbing, the bribing for friendship, the lies to make himself look better, the leaping forward to try getting in their graces, and then the audacity to tell me things about my friends as though I have only just met them.  “Abel is a really nice guy, though.  And he’s cute, too!  And Kat is really funny.  Edwin is really smart!”  (No, I’m not making up the inanity of these statements).

Uh, I’ve smacked Abel’s bare, white ass and had him say raunchy, terrible things to me.  I was in Kat’s wedding.  I helped quiz Edwin when he was studying for the BAR exam.  I know these things about them and more.  It amazes me that Stacey has the audacity to lie to my friends to make himself seem better than he is, to lie about me, to tell me things I already know as though I am a noob and trying to infiltrate HIS group of friends, and to be so pathetic as to offer them free services to hide what he really is—a desperate, fake, pretentious, reaching troglodyte.  If he were just lonely and in need of friends, I could feel sorry for him.  But his tactics are reprehensible, transparent, and sad.  Luckily, I have confidence in my friends to have a sense of reality and see him for what he is.

Yet, I can’t help but wish for the beginning of November, for the exodus of Stacey from my life, and for an end to the painful eye-rolling his very presence induces.  I also can’t wait until these rants here come to an end.  They tire me and very likely my few readers, yet this is the only place I can get them out.

Thank you for reading.

(Several days later)

I debated posting this, and had planned not to, in fact.  Then I heard that, because he is a nice guy, Abel decided he wanted to take Stacey out for dinner because Stacey wouldn’t accept payment for the services he offered in his spa.  Abel asked Kat to go, but she declined because she and I had plans, and important ones at that—watching movie trailers and arranging our Netflix queues for the aforementioned October bonanza of horror.  This is exciting to only Kat and I.  It’s something we look forward to and, to avoid the silent judgment of others at our geeky behavior, we do it alone.  Plus, Kat and Abel knew there was no way I was gonna willingly hang out with Stacey.

The dinner, in fact, is tonight.  Stacey cleaned the front room, did the dishes, threw out the trash, and cleared off the dining room table.  In preparation for what?  I’m frightened to imagine.  Abel is sweet and proposed this dinner to be kind and to pay Stacey back in a way he could.  But, I know Stacey, probably better than anyone.  Seventeen years of friendship where one wears his shallow mind on his sleeve has that effect.  I know all Stacey is thinking is:  Abel + dinner – anyone else = DATE!  He luuuuuuuuuuuvs me!  *swoon*

And that made me both sad and angry.  Not angry at anyone, save myself for being so harsh sometimes, but at the state which Stacey has put himself in.  He has it in him to be a nice guy, to be considerate, to be giving.  And, through that, through that genuineness of heart and of mind, that “real” Stacey, unfettered by hatred or bile or passive aggressiveness or a clinging need to be popular (and not realizing it’s a cry for love from outside, when he needs to love himself, however cliché and dramatic that sounds)…through all that, he could have friends.  He could be well liked.  He could be who he wants.  But he lashes out at those who are constant and caring, unable to accept their kindness.  He hates and festers and has no feelings or pity for anyone, because all those emotions are directed at himself.

And yet even then, Abel wouldn’t touch Stacey because, for all his good qualities, Abel is remarkably shallow when it comes to the boys he swoops in on.  So, tonight is a sad, pathetic journey for one (where more information will be tossed up like a poisoned dinner), and a mission of well-intended kindness for the other.

Why would that make me want to post this even more?  Because I rant too much.  Sometimes it’s funny and sometimes it falls flat, and sometimes it’s whiny.  But it is always one-sided.  And so I wanted to show that, for all Stacey’s negative qualities, there is someone in there worth knowing, trying to claw through the mire of needy, loathsome behavior.  Whether that person will ever have the equilibrium (or equanimity) to come out, who can say?

Here’s hoping.

~ by Darren Endymion on August 28, 2012.

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