Listen carefully and you’ll hear the clinkety-clank of beer bottles knocking against each other. If your ears are extra sensitive you might even hear the whispers of promises made and pledges fulfilled. It is all there on that Facebook page you are looking at. The man from Cleveland who moved to LA is heading to Dallas for the Superbowl. You hear that his business has done exceptionally well for him and you are happy for him. Ok, you are not happy for him but you are not upset either. Really you are just ambivalent because you don’t have strong feelings about him one way or another.
It is not totally clear to you why you are Facebook friends. You weren’t friendly in school nor were you enemies. He clashed with a lot of the guys, this guy who has become the successful businessman. He was good at pissing people off but it never involved you. Back in the day as the colloquialism goes you were good at pissing people off too and even better at not taking grief from anyone. It is silly, but when you think of the guy these are the thoughts that come into your head. That is what he generates. That and one other memory.
A fraternity party. You are twenty years old and angry because the girl you wanted to marry is sleeping with some other guy. It is not like she wasn’t sleeping with you because she was. In fact she used to say that she loved you, but that was then and this is now. And now she is using her magic on some other guy. Some other guy who likes to call you at 3 am. He says your name in some sort of cartoonish voice that sounds especially stupid and that is about it. If you hang up he’ll call back a few more times and do it again.
You are irritated by this. It is not because he wakes you up because half the time you are still up. It is college after all. You are irritated because you know it is him and you don’t have his number. You are irritated because he is 80 miles away so it is inconvenient to go pay him a visit. Mostly you are irritated because he is shtupping the girl you professed your love to. You are irritated because you don’t understand why she would pick a buffoon over you.
He doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t know that he really is messing with the wrong guy because you are tenacious and smart. Not to mention that you have barrels of testosterone coursing through you and time to plot and plan. Eventually you figure out that the best way to get him is to find a wedge to drive between him and her. So the next time he calls you start sharing stories about what she used to do to you.
It is juvenile, but it works. The cartoon voice disappears and now he is cursing you. It makes you smile to hear the anger in his voice. You know that you have just purchased a piece of property inside his head. Now you want to plant a garden. Now you want to spread your seeds of doubt and confusion. For a week or so he calls you every night. Fortune smiles upon you because during that week she shows up at a party that you are at.
Yep, the guy who moved from Cleveland to LA and just happens to be heading to Dallas for the Superbowl. It was his party. You saw her there and you spoke with her and her friends. When he calls you that night you describe her dress and speak of her perfume. He is enraged. He tells you that he is a boxer and that he is coming for you without gloves.
So you laugh and tell him that while he was home alone she was hanging out with you at the party. You go for the cheap but effective move of telling him that she thinks that he is…small. You tell him that she kissed you that night and begged you not to say anything. None of that is true, but you figure what the heck. He is the one who drew first blood. He started calling you, not the other way around.
Later on you’ll hear that he was so angry that night that he punched the wall and broke his hand. Mission accomplished.
Epilogue
Later on you’ll read this post and think about why you told that story. The headline isn’t entirely accurate because your torch burned out a long time ago. It is true that you once loved her but you haven’t felt a thing since you were 24 or so. Why did you bother sharing this. And then you’ll shrug and prepare to write another post because you are in a groove. The words are flowing and you just feel like writing.
@rutimizrachi Those days are long ago, but sometimes they feel relatively recent. He should be thankful that we never did dance. It wouldn’t have been graceful nor elegant.
My latest conversation: http://www.thejackb.com/2011/07/18/she-dances/
Hmmmmm. Excellent piece. (You don’t need me to tell you that, though.) It could only happen “back in the day.” These days, the “douche” would have killed her, to pay you back. The best you would have out of it would be a 20-year drunk and a Harlan Coben novel.
Wow, what a douche that guy was. It’s strange what brings up memories.Â
@sweetbutterbliss:disqus Yes he was. It is juvenile, but I still smile thinking about how the idiot broke his hand.
Wow, what a douche that guy was. It’s strange what brings up memories.Â
@sweetbutterbliss:disqus Yes he was. It is juvenile, but I still smile thinking about how the idiot broke his hand.
Sweet, sweet, sweet and so smooth. Â I really enjoyed this. It flowed so well. Of course, I totally dig your writing in general but this put a smile on my face. Â
Good stuff.Â
@96f61930ccd5cc42361f01fa15c1acac:disqus It is funny to me how memories of long ago can sometimes feel so real and so recent.
Sweet, sweet, sweet and so smooth. Â I really enjoyed this. It flowed so well. Of course, I totally dig your writing in general but this put a smile on my face. Â
Good stuff.Â
@96f61930ccd5cc42361f01fa15c1acac:disqus It is funny to me how memories of long ago can sometimes feel so real and so recent.
I really enjoyed this one. The heat was felt. The games real.
Came from TRDC linkup.
@1a80a007fac8a08a70ccfec97f624aed:disqus Thanks. It was an interesting post to me, there is a lot of meat in it.
I really enjoyed this one. The heat was felt. The games real.
Came from TRDC linkup.
@1a80a007fac8a08a70ccfec97f624aed:disqus Thanks. It was an interesting post to me, there is a lot of meat in it.
Hey Jack, good to read a post from you. It’s been a while (for me anyway.) I love reading your posts about love and relationships. It’s great to hear the guy’s perspective.
Have a great weekend!
@kmulkey007:disqus Thanks for stopping by, I really appreciate it. If you like those relationship posts I have a ton listed under Fragments of Fiction. You are more than welcome to read them if you like. Thanks again for coming by.
Hey Jack, good to read a post from you. It’s been a while (for me anyway.) I love reading your posts about love and relationships. It’s great to hear the guy’s perspective.
Have a great weekend!
@kmulkey007:disqus Thanks for stopping by, I really appreciate it. If you like those relationship posts I have a ton listed under Fragments of Fiction. You are more than welcome to read them if you like. Thanks again for coming by.
You have a way with words that astounds me. Seriously. Purchasing the property inside his head and wanting to plant a garden. Such an original, yet true description. I love the piece at the end, like an aside. I don’t know why you wrote it either, but I still enjoyed it.
@72c496f7f198d3d957ab6039bb8a4bd2:disqus Thank you. I think that sometimes the best education a writer can receive is life. Not just the good times but the bad as well.
Truth is that sometimes I think that the hard moments are the best source of blog fodder. Not always, but they have their use.
You have a way with words that astounds me. Seriously. Purchasing the property inside his head and wanting to plant a garden. Such an original, yet true description. I love the piece at the end, like an aside. I don’t know why you wrote it either, but I still enjoyed it.
@72c496f7f198d3d957ab6039bb8a4bd2:disqus Thank you. I think that sometimes the best education a writer can receive is life. Not just the good times but the bad as well.
Truth is that sometimes I think that the hard moments are the best source of blog fodder. Not always, but they have their use.
I also liked the imagery of purchasing the property inside his head and not stopping there but making it your own with the garden etc. Â
@2d6cfbed09546502d019c148975d5c81:disqus Even though I didn’t have “proof” that this guy was calling me I knew that he was the one doing it. I figured that I had three choices:
1) Do nothing.
2) Confront him in person.
3) Get inside his head.
Truth is that in those days what I really wanted to do was beat him silly but he lived about 70 miles away and it didn’t merit that kind of response.
And even though my knuckles wanted to taste his flesh I knew that buying space inside his head would be more effective.
I also liked the imagery of purchasing the property inside his head and not stopping there but making it your own with the garden etc. Â
@2d6cfbed09546502d019c148975d5c81:disqus Even though I didn’t have “proof” that this guy was calling me I knew that he was the one doing it. I figured that I had three choices:
1) Do nothing.
2) Confront him in person.
3) Get inside his head.
Truth is that in those days what I really wanted to do was beat him silly but he lived about 70 miles away and it didn’t merit that kind of response.
And even though my knuckles wanted to taste his flesh I knew that buying space inside his head would be more effective.
Loved the writing.
@NWmommy:disqus Thank you, I appreciate it. Hope you come visit again.
Loved the writing.
@NWmommy:disqus Thank you, I appreciate it. Hope you come visit again.
“You have just purchased a piece of property inside his head.” Funny!
Love this Jack . . . more of a creative nonfiction piece than a blog post. Next time submit something like this to a lit mag!
Hi Nina,
It was sort of a spur of the moment post. A memory was triggered and I just ran with it.