I Just Can’t Catch a Break

…at least not with some things.

So, Mel called me today at work to tell me she was heading out to her mother’s for the evening. I said, “Oh…well, have a happy birthday then.”

Silence ensues, and then she confesses that she was sure I’d forgotten and got weepy. I was decidedly disturbed by that, but not really terribly surprised anymore. Apparently, I’ve evolved into a cast-iron, stone-cold bitch. Fine. Whatever. I don’t really fuckin’ care what she thinks about me anymore as long as she leaves the fuck alone. Really, I’m at that point and I often suffer from Oprah’s “disease to please.”

The good news, however, was that I’d get a night to myself in the middle of the week! Everyone with an unemployed roommate out there knows my privacy pain. Anyway, the Pistons are also playing tonight, so no matter what, I was sure to get plenty of downtime after yet another busy day.

So, I left work, saw that I had less than a quarter tank of gas, and since I am extremely broke at the moment (like $7.00 in my bank account broke), I went straight home and worked out there to save on gas. Again, Mel calls me in the middle of my workout. Stupidly, I answered. She asked me if I had called—apparently my work number showed up on her phone. It wasn’t me. I then asked when she would be back. She said tomorrow, and I told her that I’d leave her card and present on the counter.

Silence ensues again. She says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

I said, “I know, but it’s your birthday…and I still don’t understand why you would think that I would forget.” She grew quiet once more, and I said, “Okay, well, you caught me in the middle of my workout, so I’m going to get back to it. Have a good time—say Hi to everyone for me, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bye…Okay, bye…we hung up.

I got back to my workout and finished around 7:00. Shortly afterward I stepped outside to smoke, bring in the garbage cans from the curb, and check the mail. As I’m finishing my cigarette, up drives Mel and her mother in her mom’s van. She comes to the door and stands in the entry way, acting odd. She apologized for “disturbing my quiet moment.”

I asked her if she’d forgotten something. Half-way down the stairs into the apartment, she stops, turns around and tells me in so many words that she’d come back to ask me if I wanted to do something tonight?

Huh?

Okay, so I’m literally standing there, holding a burning cigarette with a look somewhere between confusion and horror on my face. Finally, I just said, “No thanks.” She gets visibly offended, and proceeds to tell me then that I sounded “disturbed” on the phone when she said she was going away, so she decided to come all the way out here, without calling or asking, to ask me if I wanted to do something with her; she was “worried” (hoping) I was disturbed because I had wanted to do something.

I quickly shook my head and corrected her—“I’m only disturbed that you think I’d forget your birthday.”

She went on to say that she doesn’t have a reason to believe that I wouldn’t because, “You’re trying to forget everything else” meaning our former relationship. Gee, if that's what I was trying to do, you'd think I'd kick her ass the curb to make it that much easier, eh?

This had to be the most awkward moment of my entire adult life. I mean really: the only acceptable answer, in her eyes, would have been to say “yes.” Anything else is just more evidence as to my sudden transformation into Super Bitch. So, I pointed that out and went on to say that she should have called and asked because I happen to be looking forward to an evening alone. She went onto say some bullshit about how her thinking I wanted to do something with her on her birthday was “wishful thinking” and that it was “stupid” of her to come all the way out here.

My anger was building by this point as every one of my senses began ringing manipulation and invasion of my personal space alarm bells. I was honestly tempted to tell her that she was right: it was stupid, on severals levels, most prominently due to the fact that she *has* to go to her mother's for her birthday, but I managed to maintain my composure and she promptly left.

That was about an hour ago. I’ve had some dinner since then, and writing this out has helped squelch my ire, but I was fuming mad once she left—for the specific reason that just before then I was happy, relaxed, and at peace…and now I’ve got to work doubly hard to put this absolutely ridiculous incident out of my mind.