American Idiot

I mentioned in my post yesterday that if I hadn’t have broken things off with the idiot boy, I’d have been married for a month now, and that I'd post about him soon... well here you go.

I’d known for quite a while that he wasn’t really good for me, but I wanted to keep trying to make it work, I believed I was in love with him, and that, that alone was worth fighting for. However, when my parents paid for him to go back to the UK with me for a week I started to look at things differently. There is something about being back with family that makes you reconnect with your values. As mentioned my parents paid for his ticket, they fed him everyday, put a roof over his head, my mum – although sick with the flu – drove us around to many of the tourist spots, so that he would have a good time. He didn’t once say thank you to them. He never really said thank you to anyone for anything. It was as if he believed it was just what he deserved, and he shouldn’t have to say thank you.

A lot of his behaviour came from the way his mum brought him up. His parents were divorced, and his mum is the one who he lived with, till he left home. Some of the stories he told about his family and life back in Indiana, were for me, very hard to believe. In fact much of what he said was hard to believe. I could write a whole blog about the stuff that happened to me, but no one would read it, because its so depressing. He was so full of drama. He would miss the bus, then call me and tell me what bad luck he had, then the same thing would happen the next day… I am not sure why he never realized that if he got to the bus stop earlier, he wouldn’t miss the bus. But that was him, it was much easier for him to blame it all on bad luck than to admit responsibility.

He was going to school, and working in the restaurant industry, he just couldn’t keep a job, so I was paying all the rent, bills, food and buying his beer – never a thank you. I would be tired because of my job, I’d get home and have to listen to how hard his life was. The days where I came home after a rare good day at work, 5 mins after walking through the door, I’d be exhausted from listening to him “vent” about how hard school was, or how hard his job was. He never asked how my day had been.

I know a lot of this sounds small, and perhaps not a big deal, but after a year or more it takes its toll. While we were in the UK, we went out for a couple of drinks, he wanted to stay out later, but my dad had arranged for us to go down to London with him early in the morning, the train left at 5:30am. I didn’t want to stay out past 9:30pm out of respect for my parents. He got really angry, finally when we got home, he stormed up the stairs, my mum said goodnight to him and he just ignored her. When I went up there, he started yelling, telling me how much he hated England and never wanted to go back. About how he couldn’t be himself in front of my parents because he couldn’t swear in the house. I mean, seriously, since when did swearing become part of someone’s personality. I saw a side to him that night that I hated. I didn’t sleep at all, and actually spent the night on the floor, I wanted to be as far away from him as I could. The next day, I had to act civil as we were the whole day together in London, and I knew he probably wouldn’t get the opportunity again.

At some point I ended up falling down the steps of the Tower Bridge and badly sprained my ankle. Instead of asking if I wanted to go catch the train and go back home, he requested to go walk around more. Me being the stupid person I can be at times, said ok, and hobbled around London for another couple of hours.

Luckily he was flying back home the next day, and I stayed with my parents for another week and went on vacation with them. He called every day, but of course never asked me how I was, just prattled on about how tough his day had been.

Needless to say, when I got back I broke off the engagement, and he went back to Indiana for a month. During that month he managed to persuade me to try again. No surprises, I said yes. The next two months became painful, he couldn’t get a job, so I was paying for everything, he couldn’t get himself out of bed to go to school, and ended up failing more classes. I had set myself a goal, I would try to make it work till he was scheduled to be done with school, which was October. We didn’t make it past August.

I went out with friends one Friday night, and had a really good time. He woke up around noon, and we got into a discussion about if I was seeing someone else (that was a daily conversation at the time), I didn't really want to get into it again, so it ended up in an argument. He ended the argument by saying that he was going to kill himself. I didn't take him seriously to begin with, but then he went to the bathroom, locked the door and started running a bath, I could hear him rummaging through the drawers. So I broke into the bathroom (it is one of those locks that with a screwdriver you can unlock it from the outside). He was trying to pull apart a razor blade.

We talked for probably a couple of hours, and I managed to get the razor blades out of there, and hid them. He then said he was going to go to a hotel to do it, so he left. Shortly after he called back, I mentioned to him, about his friends and family back in Indiana, we ended the call. He then called back saying it was his friends birthday, so he couldn't do it today, then he came home. He was still talking about doing it another day though. I called the local police office, as I didn't really know what to do. I was 50/50 whether he was serious or trying to manipulate me. The police came, as they were talking to him, I stood around the corner and listened. He lied and said he didn't know what they were talking about, that I had just made it up because I wanted rid of him. I was stunned. He game round the corner as they took him off, and saw me, he called me a liar. The police took him to the hospital to see the counselor or whoever.

I called every hour, to the hospital to find out what was going on (the police came at 4; it was close to 7 before I found anything out). In the meantime I went over to Juanita’s, knowing that I didn't want to be home when he got there, and also that being on my own was not the best thing at that time. I got to speak to him at about 7; the hospital released him, as he was not a danger to himself. He told me that if I didn't go home he would kill himself. I told him I was not going home, he also told me he was "stranded at the hospital", he wanted me to call him a cab (he was at St Vincent’s, how do you get stranded at St Vincent’s, it's a short walk to the Max), wait at home for him and pay for it. We ended the call, and Juanita and I went out for a drink and something to eat. My phone battery was almost dead. I received several messages and texts from him, before the battery died. One asking if he was locked out.

So I came up with a plan that we would drive back to the apartment to unlock the door then drive away, thinking that he was still at the hospital. I went to unlock the door, but he was already home, I saw him, and ran away. I ran for no other reason than I didn't want to hear what he was saying. Well I got a little confused and ran to the drivers side of the car, which not only confused myself, but also Juanita, she was ready to just pull me in the car and drive away... it was quite funny really. Jason looked a bit confused too. Apparently, after my battery died, he had told me that he had found a way home. Oh well. He called be about 50 times last night I think, and a few times the following morning. I don't even answer, as I have nothing to say to him, and I am not interested in hearing what he has to say.The next couple of days, he continued to call me and leave me messages, to see what was going on, I still had nothing really to say. I think I received about 150 calls and 50 texts from him over the weekend. I stayed with Juanita for a couple of nights, and the past two with a guy called Ryan from work.

Tuesday, I went to the apartment, as he was at school, and started packing everything up, to move it into storage. I just wanted to get everything out of there; the cats were still there as I was sure he would not do anything to hurt them). He was still threatening to kill himself on a daily basis, at one point it was because I did not leave the Xbox with him. He also wanted me to give/lend him some money so he could "enjoy' the next few weeks…
That was all just last September. He had since moved back to Indiana, and in March moved back to Portland, but I don’t answer his calls, I have no desire to have him back in my life at all.

As mentioned yesterday, since all that, I got together with the wbf, changed jobs and moved back down town, and so much happier.