Sympathy for the Devil

Yes, that old nugget from the Rolling Stones is playing on my mental stereo right now. I've been telling my best friend stories about my old narc boyfriend, CharlieSheenWinning, because she's having marital problems and I'm trying to warn her not to have an affair with a guy just like him. I swear by doing that I summoned CharlieSheenWinning up like summoning the devil himself.

Three years have passed since I broke things off with him and he married someone he only knew for only a few weeks. Ran into him a couple of times since, but it was no big deal. He was with the wifey and mostly ignored me. He moved to another country. All was good. WAS.

Last night I found myself in Hooverville.

My friend Quint calls me and says he wants to go to the local pub. So I'm driving there and I see CharlieSheenWinning's truck parked outside. Aw jeez -- really?

So I go into the pub anyway because the few times I've seen him have been relatively uneventful. He has his back to me so that's good. But I have to pee. I have to pee BAD. In order to get to the bog I have to run the gauntlet by CharlieSheenWinning and all of his cronies and I'm thinking nope. Don't want to do that. So I get a beer, Quint gets a beer, and I cross my legs.

CharlieSheenWinning has his back to me but he's LOUD. Always been a loud kinda look-at-me guy. Eventually, I can't take it anymore -- my *eyeballs* are floating. I run the gauntlet. Quietly try to slip by unnoticed but of course that doesn't work. He's already seen me over where I was sitting with Quint and commenced staring, which I pretended not to notice. I'm stopped by the Salty Dog -- pirate, funny guy, and CharlieSheenWinning's top cronie. The head Wise Guy.

CharlieSheenWinning moves in before Salty has even let go of me, hugs me and says, "WOW, you look beautiful love your hair it's dark and looks just so great God it's SO good to seeeeee you and wow you look great you're beautiful" -- all this in a word-vomit of a stream as he's hugging me.

I just want to go and damn pee, okay?

So I say, "Good to see you, too. Aren't you --?"

"Supposed to be in another country?"

"Yes."

He still has his arm around my waist, gripping me tight like a tentacle.

He says he had to fly home -- got in last night -- his mom is sick and he needs to see a doctor here for something. Get checked out. Says he's okay but has to be checked out. Won't go into detail about it, though. So finally he loosens his grip and I go to the litter box. Run the gauntlet again on the way back but this time zip by like I'm made of lightning.

As SOON as Quint goes out with some mutual friends for a smoke CharlieSheenWinning is rightthere. Leaning in at me and saying how great it is to see me. Then he shows me pictures on his phone, which I know he's been dying to do the whole time, of his hacienda in paradise. It did look phenomenal, I have to say.

He even shows a movie he took, complete with him holding the phone out so you could see him narrating. I say, "Look at you, Mr. Narcissist, holding that out so everyone can see your face!" He laughs. "Oh yeah, I'm a narcissist!" he says. True THAT.

Quint has come back in by then and he makes a comment about a woman who appears briefly in the video. CharlieSheenWinning completely dismisses her. Yes, that woman is his WIFE. He says, "Oh that's SoAndSo. She's down there. Still down there" with a wave of his hand like whatever-she's-not-here-so-who-cares.

Eventually, a lot of people leave and then it's just me between CharlieSheenWinning and Quint. And they're busting each other's balls like they're pissing on trees, marking territory. You can't make this stuff up. Quint says he had to leave and I say I do, too. CharlieSheenWinning decides to go down the street to another pub and I *know* because I know him that he's thinking I'll get rid of Quint and meet him there. It's just the kind of narcissistic thing he'd think.

Well, I don't. I say goodbye to Quint and go home. Make something to eat to sop up the beer in my stomach and watch TV. About 10 minutes after I get home I hear my phone go off saying there's a text. I think it's Quint saying he got home safely. Nope.

"Nice to see you tonight we should have a drink this week." Cue Rolling Stones song. Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name.

I didn't answer the text. And I won't answer it. He said he's here for a week. Ohhhhh Lordy, it's gonna be a looooong week. :) But not to worry -- thanks to all of you I know what I'm dealing with and how to deal with it.

They always do the same thing. I've seen it a hundred times on this board. They always try to come back. It's been three years, but here we are. If any of you read this and think you've been discarded and forgotten, let me tell you, it's only a matter of time. Discarded, yes. Forgotten, no.

Hugs,

Lobo