A long time ago, we used to be friends
But I haven’t thought of you lately at all
If ever again, a greeting I send to you,
Short and sweet to the soul I intend…
My former Italian Holy Grail of Manhood resurfaces, again…
“Merry Christmas, and forgive me – also Happy Belated Birthday! – Cristian”
Whatever. Paying 50¢ for an overseas reply hardly seemed worth it. Anyways, how many times have MY texts gone unanswered? Even the last one saying goodbye as I was about to leave Italy for good, plus a similar email I sent via FB – got no response. Jerk.
Then a couple of weeks ago…
“I know you are angry with me, at least tell me how things are going in your life.”
He had an 8 year window (while I was living in Italy) to see me and did nothing about it. His overall inflated self-importance is reminiscent of 2 summers ago (after the break-up with ‘The English Patient’) when I took a mini-break to Pescara, 30 minutes drive from where he lives and received this text…
“I’m sorry I can’t meet you this weekend, I am very sick with diarrhea and vomiting… I’m sorry for ruining your vacation”
Part of it was true at least – He was full of shit.
I hadn’t gone there for him, I had gone there for ME. It being convenient to visit as there was an inexpensive coach direct from Salerno, and it was also near the Adriatic sea. Sure it would have been nice to meet after so many years, but I had already expected he would find some lame excuse not to meet up. There was also the time he was fishing for sympathy after the death of his dog that he had had for 14 years. I never knew he had a dog. He never once mentioned it in passing, even though he knows how much I loves dogs. I mean, don’t REAL friends know this stuff about each other?
Despite my irritation I cordially replied to his latest text, even telling him my dog passed away last month, but of course I received no response – that would require having actual warm-blood along with an absence of fins and scales.
I REALLY wanted to say: News Flash. I don’t give a shit anymore. You married a sawdust and tomato sauce-flavoured muffin-top, when you could have had cake. Deal with it, and stop contacting me. (Actually while writing this I became so irritated that an hour ago I sent him yet another text telling him he’s predictable and selfish, and not to contact me anymore. Problem solved.)
Yesterday’s surprise email via Facebook from a former Pasta for One
‘Guest Star’ was no less futile…
Re-enter ‘Luke Wilson Bike Mechanic’ infamous for his mouth – large enough to accomodate numerous feet, verbal diarrhea, and his grand declarations of epic stupidity including; he was using me as a distraction from his likely immediate-future douchebaggery ie. riding the banana-seat with his good friend’s ex-girlfriend aka. ‘The Ugg Boot-wearing Skank’ or more simply ‘Boot Bitch.’
Hey Cakes, I was just in Ukraine and you came to mind because there were dogs everywhere on the streets. Many of them looked like the ‘Officious Seeing Eye Bitch’ from the movie ‘Everything is Illuminated’. Short pudgy bodies and short snouts. I wanted to bring some dogs home with me. They were really nice dogs too. It made me sad to know that many were randomly shot when many cities in Ukraine were preparing for the European World Championships last year. Anyhow, how are you? Are you still in Italy?
Is he for real? I remind him of nice Eastern European street dogs with ‘short pudgy bodies and short snouts?’ Despite how aberrant his use of the English language seems to be, I think I know what he is trying very inarticulately to communicate. But the question remains, why even bother? Ignoring his obscure triggered reminder of me, yet acknowledging the misfortune of street dogs, I also politely included within my reply:
I left Italy for a few reasons. The catalyst was a family issue, but I essentially was tired of all the hassles ie. – no local transit, bureaucracy, overall disrespect, douchebaggery, the list goes on…. So yeah that’s it.
I hope all is well and the bike thing is working out for you. Cheers.
Yes, I said ‘douchebaggery’ – If the shoes fits.
But what I really wanted to say: Was the ‘dog thing’ an icebreaker? Why should you be even be interested? I should think your swell and sensitive now because you feel sorry for street dogs? I do this everyday – welcome to my world. There is a reason I DIDN’T maintain contact with you, and I prefer to let sleeping dogs lie (unless they have paws).
Futile friendships are just that… FUTILE.
In addition, what do I generally think of this apparent ‘trend’ ie. the numerous douchebaggy men in the past that seem to have taken my love of dogs and tried
using it to make themselves look more sensitive in order to manipulate a situation,
or to get attention by making me feel sorry for them in some way?
…and shame on you.