Friday, September 28, 2007

The Train to Crazy Town, Part II

Okay my friends, I know it's been awhile, and here's what I learned in that time: Don't tell people you know in real life about your blog because then you can't write about them!! But more on that later. Here's the conclusion of Crazy Andy:

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So he read the blog then came in and said he didn't care. We went out to porch (which is on the 2nd floor, mind you) and started talking some more. Then he climbed over the railing onto the roof and announced that he was going to jump off the roof to prove his love to me, to which I responded that that would prove that he is crazy, not that he loves me. He showed me a long scar that ran the length of his forearm, and informed me that he had nearly killed himself cutting that scar to prove his love to his last girlfriend. I begged him to climb back and quit it, but he refused. I ran inside, telling him I wouldn't put up with this, and after a minute or so, I got a call from him that he was now on the ground and could I come help him up?

I did. We both had been drinking so I couldn't get him back to his apartment. I guess I could have called a cab, but I wasn't thinking straight, so I let him in and cleaned up a cut he had. But I was pissed. I wanted him to sleep it off, and I did not want to sleep with him, but he wouldn't leave me alone so I said I would sleep in the same bed, but JUST sleep. When we were laying there, he said he thought once he jumped, I would be so impressed that I would kiss him all over his body and everything would be okay. He tried to touch me. I got up and left the room. He promised not to touch me again so I laid down until he went to sleep then went and slept on the couch.

I didn't talk to him the next day. It was Thursday and I spent it at my mom's, talking to 2 different visiting nurses and the social worker. Then Kristy and I had to meet with the doctor to make a decision about how to handle the DNR decision. That night, my mom had her episode, and early the next morning, she died.

I told Andy, and told him I couldn't handle him right now. I needed to focus on getting through things with my mom right now. Saturday and Sunday he called me a few times. At one point, I called him and had a drunken conversation about how jumping off the roof was bad and my mom dying was really an upsetting thing and I needed time alone. I was worried, though, knowing about his past relationship, that he would do something (even more) crazy when I actually broke up with him. So I waited until I could go visit Whitney and Jake for awhile so I could be away and he couldn't find me.

I drove up Monday night. He called me at 9:30 PM, just after I arrived there. I didn't answer. I didn't want to talk to him again. He texted me a little while later. Then as soon as I turned on my computer, before I had a chance to block his screen name, he IMed me several times in a row. I signed off, and he called me from a blocked number around 11:30 PM, like I was stupid enough to answer a blocked number.

Next morning, I was working on a goodbye email that went something like, "I am having a hard time dealing with my mom's death, and I can't deal with any relationships right now, and especially one with a guy who not only hurts himself but me in the process, even when I beg him not to." He called me from someone else's phone number while I was working on this (knowing I wouldn't pick up on his number), and I did pick up, thinking it might be the funeral parlor telling me to pick up my mom's ashes. But it was him, being mad because I wouldn't talk to him, so I said I just couldn't right now, and hung up. Then I emailed him.

At which point he emailed me back, accusing me of cheating on him (because in the midst of grieving for my mother, I had been out picking up other men, clearly) and demanded his stuff back. So I told him I left it all in a bag on the porch and he could pick it up after work. So he wrote back and asked when he could pick it up, so I wrote back and AGAIN told him after work. When he got out of work, he called me and I did not pick up. Then he texted me accusing me of stealing his "Fuckin cd's" so I wrote back and responded that I had wrapped them inside his towel so as to protect them from getting scratched, to which he wrote back well he had his stuff back, if only he could have his heart back.

That was in the middle of July. Since then, he has called me from blocked numbers about once a week, usually in the middle of the night. He wrote to me once via email to make sure I didn't give him an STD, then to tell me he had gotten his license back (he had lost it for awhile) so would I take him back now? (I did my civic duty and responded to the first email that yes, I was clean, and ignored the second.) The latest thing was a message maybe a week ago left on my voicemail that went something like, "Tina, you fuckin bitch, get the fuck out my life. Fuckin bitch, leave the the fuck alone." You know, since I hadn't initiated contact with him in over 2 months.

So that is the story of Crazy Andy and why I don't give my phone number out to men anymore until I get to know them. I'm off to get my nails done for my date tonight with a new guy, but I must also write about Richard the Musician, Tracy the Republican, Scott the Mamma's Boy, and Richard the Horror Film Geek. For another night...