Attention: Your reward has officially been revoked

…Continued (from The Fight)

Okay, so I’d invited NRA Guy over for dinner the day after 'The Fight.’ He agreed immediately, then kinda-sorta tried to back out, then (correctly) figured out he’d better come or he’d be in more trouble. Then kinda-sorta left himself an 'out' window.

I spent most of the day wondering if he was going to blow me off and not liking the thought of it. (And realizing that my uneasy feeling probably indicated more feelings for him than I really wanted to admit.)

Anyway, he ended up showing up, and the Roommate’s boy toy came as well.

There was much ragging of NRA Guy throughout the meal, and much consumption of wine on the part of Belle throughout the evening. Due not in small part to his pouting about the teasing from all sides, I started to feel guilty about what he called “being mean” and ended up apologizing for a few little things and trying to reassure him that he was in decent standing. (This is relevant mainly because I later felt irate that he'd let me apologize at any point during this whole thing for anything, knowing what he knew already and what I'd find out soon enough.)

I asked him to sleep over, and, despite some initial hesitance, he agreed. Not long after we went to bed, he said he had something to tell me. Something that was going to upset me. (He really needs to work on leading into these kinds of things.)

The big, hoppin’ New Year’s Eve party he threw for 30-something of his closest friends and their friends? Yeah, that out-of-town shindig to which I wasn’t invited? Yeah, it wasn’t so much out of town as it was right here, in Our Nation’s Capital.

This little bit of information did not lead (amazingly, stupidly) to me kicking his lying ass out of my bed and out of my house. Nope, not so much.

We talked. I cried. I told him how shitty it made me feel that he just didn’t want me to be there when we were in the same fucking city. That compounded by the big fucking unnecessary lie… it made me sick. He said it was Best Buddy’s idea. Supposedly, Best Buddy said it’d lessen the blow of not inviting me if I didn’t know the party was going on in our backyard. If Best Buddy actually said this (We already know NRA’s the confirmed liar here. Why should I trust his claim?), he was right. When I thought the thing was out of town and had no idea there were lies involved, I wasn’t so much hurt as pissed about him not calling. I’m much better at dealing with pissed than I am at dealing with hurt. I can get pissed off at nearly anyone. (That little old lady with the walker taking up the usable portions of a narrow sidewalk on a busy street? Yeah, I occasionally get the urge to take her walker to her GTA-style.) But to hurt me? To hurt me means you matter in some way. To make me cry? You’ve joined the ranks of a slim, noteworthy few, NRA. And it isn’t at all a good thing.

NRA said the different location didn’t change anything. I said it changed everything. In D.C., I wouldn’t have been captive and dependent on him. If things went shitty, I could’ve vamped. I have options in D.C. that I wouldn’t have had out of town.

He said his last New Year’s went horribly wrong and blah, blah, blah. I said mine didn’t shape up so fucking hot this year, thanks to him, now did it?

And let’s not forget that the main issue here is the BIG FUCKING UNNECESSARY LIE he told.

I cried some more. I felt like shit. I did my best to make him feel like shit. He said he felt like shit. He said he was sorry about 217 times. I told him he’d have to make up for this somehow, and saying he was sorry wasn’t at all even remotely going to put a dent in the debt he’d incurred.

The waterworks dried up for a bit then opened right back up full-force when I started addressing my issues with trusting people in general. And how I have trouble doing it in the first place and then always seem to trust the wrong ones. (Exhibit A: NRA Guy)

Being way more sad than angry, it made me all the more painfully aware that this guy has only very recently succeeded in actually making me admit, even to myself, that I like him and has already gone and broken the sacred trust. I told him it was impossible for him to be trying for a relationship if he’s going to lie to me.

Then, somehow (and, oh, here is where I wish I had about two fewer glasses of wine and could remember exactly how this went down) we had the DTR. And the outcome of that conversation ended up being that he was calling me his girlfriend, and I was letting him.*

Things weren’t great, but I was really thinking all that time that I wasn’t ready for him to go just yet. When we went to sleep, I actually slept. It could’ve been the wine. It could’ve been that we were in my bed, but it’s not often I’ve encountered a guy I can comfortably sleep through the night with.

I woke up with a massive wine-induced headache and puffy eyes and a sorry-assed, lying boyfriend in my bed. As the day progressed and the remnants of my hangover disappeared, I analyzed the whole situation with a somewhat fuzzy but sober brain, consulted everyone available for consultation, and became completely aware that agreeing to be his girlfriend was a horrible idea no matter how you look at it.

I rewarded him for terrible behavior, and I ended up feeling like a complete schmuck. And rightly so. I am a complete schmuck. (Everyone say it together now…)

Anyhow, I took my frazzled, unhappy ass home and put it in bed right after work. NRA called and woke me about an hour later. I took the opportunity to end what perhaps might qualify as one of the shortest relationships of all time (We’re talking somewhere around 15 hours here, people. anyone know the Guiness record on this?).

Belle: I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be your girlfriend.
NRA: (pause) Okay.
Belle: You don't sound happy.
NRA: What did you expect me to do, jump for joy?
Belle: No... Do you want to know why I don’t think it’s a good idea?
NRA: Yes, I want to know why.
Belle: Because if I’m going to call you my boyfriend, I have to be able to trust you.
NRA: (sounding surprised) You don’t trust me?!

WTF?! As if he’s given me any reason whatsoever to trust him. Is there an alternate universe in which telling someone a huge fucking unnecessary lie elicits implicit trust?

Anyhow, he asked that I come over later. I declined the invitation. He had nothing planned, and he’s got making up to do. He doesn’t get the honor of my company for a less-than-thrilling night of channel surfing, watching him clean, and denying his requests for my services (which could be a post by itself, but I’m not in the mood to branch to that topic). He’s going to have to work to get back in my good graces. All that sweet, snazzy stuff he did at the beginning when he was trying to woo me away from other guys? Yeah, he better up the ante by about 1,000 percent.

After declining, I asked when we were going to see one another again. He started mumbling about the girl coming in tomorrow and everything depending on her arrival, etc. The rest of the weekend wasn’t mentioned. Fine. If that’s how he wants to play it, game on. Sounds to me like he’s working under one of two assumptions. One, he thinks that he can blow me off while she’s here and pick things up again when she’s gone (which was Fabric Softener Boy’s suggestion for him wanting so badly that I agree to be his girlfriend). Or, two, he thinks that I’m going to be available and willing to be squeezed in the cracks when his plans with other people allow. Neither is the case, whether he realizes it or not. I made sure to book the weekend solid after I finished my nap.

He sent me inane text messages several times later in the night rather than calling me back after ending our conversation. I responded to a couple, but then bored of it. Did I really want to hear about how lazy he was feeling? Obviously, no.

NRA Guy’s mission, should he desire to have a shot at getting back in Belle’s good graces, reaches well beyond doing damage control or kissing ass. He’s going to have to repair broken trust. And good luck to him. This Capricorn really doesn’t like to be crossed by the people she lets in her life.

* Earlier in the night, when talking about plans for my upcoming birthday, he said if the Bears and the whats-its do something or other with a ball, his dad was supposed to get him tickets to a game in Chicago on birthday weekend. He said he told his dad to get a ticket for me. Before the revelation, I told him we’d deal with his potential breaking of the birthday plans when and if it came to that. After the DTR, though, and in my first official act as his girlfriend, I told him he had no choice but to spend my birthday with me. I also laid out as many other rules/laws/mandates as I could think up on the spot. The next morning, I was perhaps still a little tipsy when I remembered this, but I have to admit being somewhat excited about having the upper hand going into this.