Friday, November 21, 2008

One Reason Why I Don't Answer My Phone

I’m a little bit sick and tired of not meeting better people. I feel sometimes like I’m surrounded by seriously mental people out to make me miserable. I get criticized for turning the ringer off on my phone and not having my cell phone on. I do it to get peace and quiet. Lately, I’ve wanted to get in my car and drive off. I swear, in the next couple of months, I’m going to treat myself to a weekend away.
Anyway, a former friend is calling me. It’s a hell of a long story, but this is what went down.
This friend supposedly wanted help from me because she had recently adopted a puppy, and was in over her head. She claimed the dog was wild, but she wasn’t. She was just a puppy who needed interaction, training and a yard to run in. My friend had claimed there was a hole in the fence and the yard wasn’t safe to run in. My friend wanted me to take care of her puppy while she went away for a Christmas weekend. She left her kid with her parents while she went off with her boyfriend. I went out into the yard and checked the fence. I didn’t see anything wrong with the fence or any of the gates. I let the puppy out, and she ran non-stop for the better part of an hour. I’ll always be haunted by the way the puppy grasped my forearms with her paws, as if she knew what was going to happen if I left her in the care of my friend.
This friend had kept the puppy shut up in a 2’ x 3’ crate most of the time. She couldn’t let the puppy run around in the house, because the house wasn’t “puppy-friendly” and she couldn’t control the puppy in the first place. The puppy also needed serious leash training, but my friend was just overwhelmed and didn’t want to do anything. She claimed she needed help with this animal, yet when I suggested things she needed to do with this puppy, got all defensive and said, “I’m doing the best I can.” Okay, so if she’s doing the best she can, why does she need my advice?
After I told her that shutting her puppy in a crate for hours on end might be considered abuse by some people, she got mad. She started trashing me on her blog, so I returned her house key. I wasn’t about to hold on to the key, because eventually she would have claimed I stole something. She got upset because I typed the letter that I sent with the key. And if I’d hand-written it, she would have got mad at that.
So she trashed me on her blog, at a rate of about once a week, for four months. She kept baiting me, and baiting me, but I didn’t respond to her incredibly childish attacks. Her rantings were more fitting of a 16-year-old girl than a 32-year-old woman.
Now, she is in the mental hospital, calling me and calling me, saying she “misses” me. She’s wondering why I haven’t returned her calls. Yes, she’s that dumb. You cross me and you can pretty much take me off your friend list, and I will take you off mine. I’ve taken shit from people and have been “dive-bombed” (my term for when I think things are going okay, then out of nowhere, a “friend” pisses all over me) way too many times. I’ve cut this person out of my life as well as another friend who said we were going on a trip once she got her disability money. A week after she got it, she took off with another friend without a word of explanation.
As I get older, I feel like I’m meeting people who are spiraling down. I’m not meeting influential, creative, energetic go-getters. I’m meeting people who are just the opposite. In high school, I felt like my friends in class were the scumbags, the recreational drug users. I didn’t socialize with these people outside of class. I did not have many friends, but they were quality people, one of which I am still friends with to this day. I always thought I was careful not to socialize with people of “questionable” morals or beliefs. But I’m encountering people who have committed felonies, misdemeanors and other crap. I wouldn’t be surprised in the next five years to meet people who are in organized crime, drug dealers, prostitutes, and so on. It’s no wonder I just want to get the hell out of here and start all over again. I know there are questionable people everywhere, but how does someone like me, who’s never been arrested, never been drunk, never been in jail encounter such weirdness? I swear to God, I could walk into a bar with 99 normal guys, gainfully employed, reasonably clean, and not have them talk to me. But the one wacko guy, seriously mentally ill, possibly dangerous, who thinks if a woman smiles at him she wants to sleep with him, will come over to me. My people radar is shot, and I’d rather be alone than surrounded by chaos.

3 comments:

Robert Enders said...

You should start hanging out with fine, upstanding white collar criminals.

Gloria said...

Well, jeez! This is Fort Wayne! We don’t have any of those!!! :)

Robert Enders said...

Probably none that would talk to a reporter, unless you promise to protect their identity. Too bad there isn't a federal shield law, or else you might get invited to the country club.