Monkey wrench man July 30, 2012
Will she, or won’t she?
That is the question. Have we reached her limit of tolerance after
my wishing her a happy birthday on her birthday?
It is put up or shut up time, make good on the threat or
stop threatening. But she’s not the kind to shut up. So, I have to wonder if
this is finally the end of the road? I either comply or see my life in ruins.
The whole texting exchange whether with her alone pretending
to be other people or with her actual family members was an utter over
reaction, but also an attempt to continue to build a case against me she didn’t
have before.
I set myself up because I wanted revenge for the arrogance
of her poem, when my best course of action would have been simply to have
written an equally scathing poem. But as Mary Ann, my oldest and dearest friend,
pointed out after I showed her the text exchange, “You’ve never been one to take
the safe road about anything.”
Revenge has a price. And now we’ve come to the point of
cease and desist or cease to exist.
As Mary Ann also pointed out, I hate seeing anyone getting
away with something.
“You’re a monkey wrench kind of guy, Al,” she said. “You’ve
always tried to screw up the works.”
Yet whatever plans she has for the future, she’s destined to
fail – just as she has always failed, desperate for control she is never able
to maintain, and not just because she’s had monkey wrench guys like me in her
life before, but because of some inner flaw of her own.
Her life seems to be a reliance on some external threat from
which she needs to be protected, and so if she doesn’t have someone like her
New York stalker in her life, then she’d have to invent a new one – as she
apparently tried with me.
Hopefully, she feels safer now, more confident, so that she
can plunge ahead with her plans, leaving me as a bystander to watch the
eventual train wreck when it comes.
Being a monkey wreck person is also a pain in the ass,
because it is much easier just to go along, let the inevitable happen, avoiding
the drama of conflict that can only end badly for everybody involved.
We both know that my wishing her a happy birthday was not a genuine
expression of affection, but a statement of defiance, a response to her arrogant
ending to her forgiveness poem, a one-big fuck-you which ultimately left me
vulnerable and without leverage.
I’m at her mercy and she knows it – even if the so-called documents
or evidence she has is bullshit.
The question is: will she or won’t she go in for the kill?
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