Where the Wild Things Are

Under the bed.

That is where the latest wild thing has been for 2 days now. I can't get him to come out. It doesn't help that his little brother keeps stalking him.

The latest in the cat drama is as follows:

Douchebag never got back to me about when he was planning on bringing Bong over, so come Weds or so I shot him an email asking what was up. In it I also happened to mention that I had some of his stuff, and he still had some of mine, and perhaps we could trade stuff while he dropped off the cat.

He blatantly ignored my email, but texted me and said, "oh, sorry, I should have confirmed Saturday at 11am with you."

Yea, he should have, considering I already had plans...but I cancelled them and agreed to the time.

Wouldn't you know it, come 10:55am Sat am, I get a friggin Facebook message. The cat is hiding. He won't come out. Oh, and the Douchebag forgot his cell phone, so he can't call me.

I messaged back, "Borrow Victor's phone and call me with a status, please."

Facebook message back:"This is gonna take a while. Go about your day."

Arrogant prick. Now I'm being dismissed to go about my day. So that I did.

I had a perfectly amazing time with the other Cheese, biking, kayaking in the East River, drinking frozen hot chocolate from Jacques Torres and laying out in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Hours upon hours went by with no word from Douchebag. I got an invite to join Kristen and some friends from out of town to drink at Water Taxi Beach, so I got myself showered and was just about ready to leave my pad when I see an unfamiliar # come up on my phone.

"It's me, the Douchebag. I've got Bong, I'll be there in half an hour."

Um. Ok. Guess Water Taxi Beach will wait.

I hate the fact that I was nervous to see him. I hate that I still worry about his opinion and that I feel the need to impress upon him. I slightly hate the fact that I asked my friend S&M to be with me when Douchebag arrived and pretend to be my husband (he was all for it, but I changed my mind about that, not that S&M wouldn't make a great husband, but a girl can only sink to a certain level of insecurity!) I cracked open a beer and waited outside on my stoop.

Douchebag showed up an hour later, cat carrier in tow. We barely exchanged hellos. I don't know, for 2 split seconds I actually thought that maybe he had changed, gained some humanity or perhaps gotten over his animosity towards me. But no. His arrogance and disdain for me was quite apparent. I would like to point out that I had fully intended on inviting him upstairs for a beer and having some sort of catch up...because that's what sane people do. But his body language and sarcastic tone were very clearly saying "back off bitch." So I asked him to help me carry all the stuff and the cat upstairs.

"You might want to give him a bath." he pointed out. I asked why, and he replied, "Bong's been living in Victor's basement for the last 3 months." He couldn't look at me when he said it.

You fucking sonofabitch. You give up the cat and instead of calling me immediately because you don't want to deal with me, you let the poor creature live in a dank, dirty basement? For 3 months???

"Why didn't you call me?" I asked.
"I called you NOW, didn't I?" he scowled.

I wanted to scratch his eyes out.

Instead, I asked why he was separating Bong from his buddy. He wouldn't answer. "Douchebag," I said, "You owe me at least that."

"I moved in with someone who already had a cat, and she didn't want three. So I had to get rid of one."

a) He is such a fucking PUSSY that he let this stupid bitch talk him into getting rid of Bong? b) he moved out of the apartment that I was so sure he was going to die in, a tiny box of a place that he and I lived in together for 6 years...because he refused to move to a bigger space and pay more money? c) he takes the one cat that is afraid of his own shadow, sticks him in a basement, and then sends him off to me, to confuse him further? d) he fucking lives with someone?

Yea, I think "d" got to me the most. Fine, I admit it.

Either way, this news disturbed me to no end, and after I started banging around some shit, I literally began to start herding him out of my apartment, for fear that I would punch him in the face. I really wanted to punch him in the face, dammit.

As I led him to my door, he suddenly says "Oh yea, I have your stuff, but I didn't bring it with me, and I want my stuff back. So can I have it?"

You fucking asshole. You blatantly ignore my email..and now you expect that I just have your fucking stuff neatly piled up and ready to go? Blow me.

"Yea, I don't know where it is. I'll be in touch," I opened my front door and showed him the way out. "Take care."

He looked at me as if I had three heads. I'm not sure what more he wanted to say or wanted me to say, but I wasn't interested in finding out. So out the door I threw him.

Aargh.