Let's see. Where are we?
Fifty shades. Oh heck, I'm no where near fifty shades yet.
Shade one - prescription bottles in his truck
Shade two - a room reserved at the local mental hospital
Shade three - horrible scar on his arm
Shade four - SPIKE DID NOT LIKE HIM!!!!!
Shade five - didn't tell me about having a daughter
Shade six - always having an excuse for everything
Crap! Forty four shades to go. Ugh!
Several weeks into our relationship Damien texts me while I'm at work. He tells me that his car broke down and he had gotten a ride into work from a neighbor, but wondered if I could come and pick him up from work. Well, of course, I can. I leave work, drive to his place of employment, tell the guard on duty I am there to pick Damien up to take him home. The guard goes into his booth, calls inside, comes back out to my car to tell me Damien had called in sick that morning. Sick? Sick? Why had he texted me to come pick him up? What kind of lame deal was this? I mumbled some excuse to the guard, threw my car into reverse and got the heck out of there.
Now, I had not bothered calling Damien because we were already living in the world of cell phones, emails, and texting. I immediately called him after leaving his place of employment and got a prerecorded message that this cell number was no longer in service. Well, I'm just totally freaked by this point. I drive to his house and he's actually out in the yard weeding his garden. He looks up sees me and smiles, he walks over and asks why I've dropped by. I look at him like he is crazy and ask why he sent me a text asking to pick him up from work. "I didn't text you. I can't find my phone. I actually called the service provider and had it turned off because it's either lost or stolen," Damien stated. I asked how it could be stolen when I had received texts from him asking me to pick him up from work an hour and a half ago. He asked if I had gotten a text in the past hour. I said no. He said I didn't have it turned off until an hour ago. I asked what the heck is going on. About that time you could hear his house phone ringing. He went inside to answer it, when he came back outside he had a huge frown on his face and steam coming out of his ears.
Apparently, the mother of his daughter had just called and asked if he had spoken with his "little girlfriend." He told her as a matter of fact she was at his house now. She laughed (imagine the Wicked Witch of the East's laugh) and said, "I thought you might be seeing her."
Here's the whole story as I finally unraveled all of the pieces... Damien had taken his daughter back to her mother's the night before. He dropped his phone. She knew he was seeing someone and she started looking for texts between us. The next morning she knew he was calling in sick just to take the day off from work so, she decided she would mess with the "little girlfriend."
What the heck?! Who behaves like this? But, of course, it wasn't his fault. You cannot be blamed for having a crazy ex.
As far as counting the fifty shades, let's be honest and admit that a crazy ex accounts for at least six shades!
Fifty shades. Oh heck, I'm no where near fifty shades yet.
Shade one - prescription bottles in his truck
Shade two - a room reserved at the local mental hospital
Shade three - horrible scar on his arm
Shade four - SPIKE DID NOT LIKE HIM!!!!!
Shade five - didn't tell me about having a daughter
Shade six - always having an excuse for everything
Crap! Forty four shades to go. Ugh!
Several weeks into our relationship Damien texts me while I'm at work. He tells me that his car broke down and he had gotten a ride into work from a neighbor, but wondered if I could come and pick him up from work. Well, of course, I can. I leave work, drive to his place of employment, tell the guard on duty I am there to pick Damien up to take him home. The guard goes into his booth, calls inside, comes back out to my car to tell me Damien had called in sick that morning. Sick? Sick? Why had he texted me to come pick him up? What kind of lame deal was this? I mumbled some excuse to the guard, threw my car into reverse and got the heck out of there.
Now, I had not bothered calling Damien because we were already living in the world of cell phones, emails, and texting. I immediately called him after leaving his place of employment and got a prerecorded message that this cell number was no longer in service. Well, I'm just totally freaked by this point. I drive to his house and he's actually out in the yard weeding his garden. He looks up sees me and smiles, he walks over and asks why I've dropped by. I look at him like he is crazy and ask why he sent me a text asking to pick him up from work. "I didn't text you. I can't find my phone. I actually called the service provider and had it turned off because it's either lost or stolen," Damien stated. I asked how it could be stolen when I had received texts from him asking me to pick him up from work an hour and a half ago. He asked if I had gotten a text in the past hour. I said no. He said I didn't have it turned off until an hour ago. I asked what the heck is going on. About that time you could hear his house phone ringing. He went inside to answer it, when he came back outside he had a huge frown on his face and steam coming out of his ears.
Apparently, the mother of his daughter had just called and asked if he had spoken with his "little girlfriend." He told her as a matter of fact she was at his house now. She laughed (imagine the Wicked Witch of the East's laugh) and said, "I thought you might be seeing her."
Here's the whole story as I finally unraveled all of the pieces... Damien had taken his daughter back to her mother's the night before. He dropped his phone. She knew he was seeing someone and she started looking for texts between us. The next morning she knew he was calling in sick just to take the day off from work so, she decided she would mess with the "little girlfriend."
What the heck?! Who behaves like this? But, of course, it wasn't his fault. You cannot be blamed for having a crazy ex.
As far as counting the fifty shades, let's be honest and admit that a crazy ex accounts for at least six shades!
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