Friday, February 16, 2007

does not compute.

I, like many women, have ex-boyfriends. It's how the game is played. And I'm usually pretty cool with it--hell, my best guy friend is an ex of mine. But sometimes I don't get it--and it’s the most recent one that I don’t understand. We dated for a year and eight months. And we had moved in together. The story of our demise is long and boring and annoying, but it boils down to this: I was called out on an iffy third strike, and the ump was making up stuff in the middle of the game. Also, I’m not sure if the ump was him or his mother, or his mother using him like a marionette. [my that’s an amusing mental picture…moving on]

He moved out last weekend—after four months of me searching for a roomie and trying desperately to find one who wasn’t too old (like my parent’s age) or too eccentric (the one who wanted to know if I’d boss him around because he liked it) or too pushy (the person practically wanted to put a curfew on me!). Thank goodness he travels for work A LOT. Finally, I found someone, and he moved out, and there was much rejoicing.

The problem with this scenario is that I still have some of his stuff at my place—some borrowed on purpose (like the table) but a good portion that he just hasn’t gotten yet. Some of which he’ll be procuring this evening.

so far, so good.

Today he emailed me to ask a favor: y’see, he's going to VA this weekend--he's playing middle man for some jeep thing for his friend and also taking some of his stuff to his parent's house—things that are still in my storage unit. He has a Jeep, and he asked if he could please store his back seat at my place--apparently he's leaving to go out of town immediately after work and hasn’t had a chance to remove it yet and is afraid his car will be too full blah-dee-fricking-blah. anyhoo.

okay, fine, this is fine.

and I told him yes, he could keep it at my place, but ONLY if it fit in the storage unit. because, as it turned out, he was hoping he could put it IN MY BEDROOM if it didn't fit in the storage. what?!? surely he jests, you would think. no, no, wrong. he even said "(pout)" at one point. yikes.

maybe I'm wrong here, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I don't think you ask to store stuff in the bedroom of your ex-girlfriend who you just moved out of the apartment with and who now has Random McRandomson for a roomie because your stupid ass said "no, we're fine" in May when you two were debating renewing your lease only to let your mother wig out later and convince you your girlfriend is evil and conniving and now you're broken up and, yeah, I think I'm annoyed. And I just don’t get it. The denseness abounds.

I mean, I consider myself rather well informed of what is/isn't polite/proper/normal. I figure that I *get* it. I know which silverware to use and to bring a gift to your hostess when you stay at someone's home. Formality and protocol do not escape me. But the logic of this does. oh well. hopefully it will be quick and painless. we shall see.

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