.I hadn't slept well the night before, obviously, after someone trying to burglarize me. By the way, ADT said they didn't call back or call the police because I disarmed the alarm. So...let me get this straight: The entry delay goes off for 60 seconds before the alarm goes off. The alarm sounds for 15 minutes before it turns off automatically. Then ADT tries to call me. If they don't get me, they call The Boy. If they don't get him, then they call the police. If it's daytime hours, the cops will be here in no less than 5 minutes. If it's after 5 and before 7, they have to be dispatched through the county, which could take as many as 15 minutes. So...we're looking at over half an hour from the time the alarm is actually tripped to the time the police MAY arrive at my house. WTF is the point of having ADT actually monitor, again? My question was: What if the criminal had a gun to my head and made me disarm the system? Fucking DUH, ADT. Fail.
Anyway, he got to my side of town at about 11. He came to pick me up but refused to come inside. I thought it was stupid to sit in the driveway and debate about where to eat, but he pulled up in
this:
A 2006 Chevrolet Corvette Z06 with a supercharger and ethanol.
Now, if you know me, then you know how incredibly sexy a powerful car is. I don't give a flying fuck about flashy shit: I want it fast. It could be a 1985 Mercury Capri, for all I care, but if it's a 10-second car, that's about how long it'll take me to climb in. Just so happens that Scott's Z06 does indeed make it down the quarter mile in a little less than 10 seconds (saw the timeslips), AND it still gets 25 miles to the gallon. *melts* Unfortunately, it IS a GM vehicle, so it sounds like a tin can lined with felt and filled with loose nuts and bolts. He's never even removed the targa top, but it's all rattly and loose, as is every other thing in the car.
He got out to meet me, and gave me a big hug. It felt...perfect. So I got in, secretly hoping someone I knew would drive by and be all like, "DAMN, Stillie! Whose fine-ass Vette?" but nobody did. We did indeed end up debating in the car about where to eat, and we finally settled on [a steakhouse] right down the street because he said he wanted a steak. They have *never* overcooked my steak (i like them rare to medium rare), so I figured that would be a good place to go.
I couldn't keep my voice steady and I was, quite frankly, scared to death. I kept my eyes on him as he drove and besides a few extra lines around the eyes, he still looked like regular old Scott. His whiskers got a little more red, I think, but his hands looked much better. Since he hasn't been doing porting and polishing of cylinder heads for a living, he quit maiming himself. I was honestly and truly amazed that I was so comfortable and yet so nervous to speak. In an odd twist, the hostess sat us at the exact same table where I had my first date with The Boy. Awkward!
So we ordered and talked and it really did seem like everything was back to normal, just the two of us. We talked a lot about old times, a bit about what had happened in the last 10 years, and he wanted to know why I hadn't been to look at the pictures he'd recently posted up on MySpace. Well, first off, he didn't find me on MySpace, he found me on Facebook. But I didn't say anything, and just said that I don't log on much. Totally true - I don't. (Now, if you know much about literature, you'll notice I just used the literary device known as "foreshadowing.")
The food was fantastic and when we were done (and HE paid!), he said he wanted to take me for a drive. Umm, sure! Okay!
We drove all the way down south to [another town ], then turned around and went all the way downtown. On the way out of town, he cranked it up to 140 mph and that's when I realized I really need a fast car again. Somewhere along the way, he grabbed my hand and I really didn't know what to do. It just felt so incredibly right and perfect and meant to be, but I did pull away after a few seconds. It's still not right, right? Then we decided to go back and see what had happened to some of our old haunts, so we ended up over in [removed for anonymity] Ghetto (totally not good for a vette's suspension), and the [removed again] Strip. We decided to drive in on [city's main drag] through [eclectic part of town] and take the spur back to the freeway and back again. But, when we got to [the main drag] and [ritzy residential street], the car just quit going. It acted like it was flooded, but no amount of sitting made it work.
Now, this bothered me quite a bit for 2 reasons: 1) He used to be a mechanic. He also said he'd tweaked it the night before - good one, scott - and didn't know what was wrong with it. 2) I was stuck in the [big mall] area with an ex-boyfriend who no one really knew I was with and I totally wasn't supposed to be there.
A guy helped him push it into the [nearby restaurant] parking lot and we figured out that it was actually the fuse to the fuel pump booster that had melted. We both guessed it was probably a faulty wiring issue and if he got a pocketful of fuses, he could probably make it back home. Or, at the very least, get ME back home! The worst part was that my Jeep was in the garage. So I couldn't even come up with a plausible story about why I was gone...the only possible answer was that somebody had picked me up.
But we went back to my house and, again, he said he didn't want to come in (thank god for small miracles), and I called The Boy. The Boy said he was going to be up there hunting at least until that evening - at dark. He hadn't shot anything that morning but was counting on that evening to be a better time. So I went back outside and talked to Scott. We decided to take his Vette to my parents' house right across the neighborhood, and then take my truck and ride around a little bit more. He said he was enjoying running around, but didn't feel safe to drive the Vette if we were going anywhere remote.
We ended up going out to [another town] and the [muddy] River and came back through [two more towns]. We got back to my parents' house at a reasonable hour because he didn't want to get stuck in the dark on the side of the highway if his Vette took another shit on him. That's totally understandable.
So he grabbed me and kissed me twice, and then he left. And it was simple, rather benign, but left me feeling like I absolutely had to have more.
He started texting me almost immediately: "You're like coming home" and stuff like that. Feeling was totally mutual.
But I had to keep myself grounded. I knew that most people don't change, and that liars have a tendency to stay that way, and they just keep going through people. I remembered the MySpace comment. For someone who claims to be rather unsavvy with computers, I thought it was strange for him to say that in an off-hand remark if it wasn't part of his usual speech.
Still, I wanted to remind myself that I'm a woman who's made a promise to another man, so I called Tom and talked to him a little bit. It was a good conversation although it was short. Usually, after I do something a little shady, I tend to get all clingy and super-girlfriendy to my boyfriend, but this time I didn't. It was just sort of like "ehh, whatever. come home when you're ready." I was content just being by myself, thinking.
And then I thought some more, and realized that I had never really finished doing all the online checking I'd wanted to do. So I pulled out my laptop, logged on to some of my background checking sites, and found nothing of criminal interest. But I did go to MySpace on a whim and, sure enough, I found 2 profiles for him. One was really old and hadn't been touched since '07, and the other was more current, but he hadn't logged in since February.
I looked at his friends and his comments and there was one from his son about someone named Devon. Don't know who that is, but there was another comment from his daughter who said, "Who is this? Daddy or Devon?" which leads me to believe Devon might have been a girlfriend? I also saw an older one from this woman who said something about him being all hot and if she can get some of that but, oh, wait, he's her husband, she can have it whenever she wants it, and she loves her baby Scott. *gags* I'm not going to comment on what I think about the woman's appearance, but you know I'm going to anyway. She looks like an alcoholic addicted to cigarettes because her complexion is all red and fucked up like someone who's been smoking forever and a day, and she has obviously fake tits. Not overly large, but clearly fake. But she's 39 and had her full name on there, so I figured I'd do the next logical step: marriage records.
Sure enough, they got married in 2005 in [his] County. I checked the divorce records, because that comment was left over a year ago, but even MY divorce records aren't showing up yet and that was almost 2 years ago. Of course, nothing came up for that. I did some other searches on property and things like that, and came up with nothing.
Knowing Scott the way I do, I was already willing to believe he was still married. He's a liar and a cheat...why would that change?
So when I continued to get texts from him, I encouraged him to come clean. I said, "So, are there any things about the last 10 years that you might think I should know about? Any things I might be interested in knowing about your life, like MAJOR life decisions?" I got stupid shit back like, "Yeah, I'm gay! LOL!" or something similar.
It basically came down to me saying "Why didn't you tell me you were married?" He said, "I didn't say I was married. I said I was in a 6 year relationship." I told him that he didn't have to actually say he was married, that all that shit is public record, and I wanted to know if he'd actually managed to divorce this one first before he wanted to go out with me.
So there have been some nasty texts going to him, and very apologetic ones and pathetic ones coming from him. He eventually got around to telling me that she left him for a younger guy, that all she does is drink and stay out at night and she finally just left him for the boyfriend she had. He swears up and down that it's over with her, that he's hired an attorney, and they're separated. He said "I'm legally separated" and that's when I said, "Uh...I don't think so. There's no legal separation in Texas. Trust me. If there were, I'dda done it." He was kinda quiet and said, "Well, my attorney has noted our separation in my paperwork."
Uhh, sure. That's how it happened last time, too. He swore up and down that his wife cheated on him first and never stopped, and so he just got on with his life while she continued doing what she did.
Well, whatever. I can't trust him. It doesn't matter how badly I wanted this to work out. It doesn't matter how quickly I was willing to fall into something with him. It doesn't matter that I'd lost all sensibility and reason when it came to him.
I simply can't trust him and it has to stop - all of it - before he manages to convince me otherwise. Because if there's one thing I've learned about Scott, it's that he can do just that to me, quite easily.
So, my biggest challenge is going to be to cut him out now that I invited him in, focus on what does matter (the boy), and try to forget how badly I wish that this would have all turned out quite differently.
Of course, y'all probably know me well enough already to know that shit doesn't happen. No, I'm the kind of girl that finds the hornets' nest, sprays it with water, runs away, comes back, pokes it with a stick, then runs away, then throws dirt on it, and so on.
So this is what I did: I made a mix CD of all "our" songs. I wrote a sappy little love letter to go along with it. Then I addressed the padded CD envelope in my own obviously-girly handwriting. There's no return address, but it's very apparent there's something besides just paper in it. So, if she is at home all day and not working like he said she was doing before and after 'she left,' then maybe she'll be home when the mail comes. *evil laugh* And, if she's actually gone, then no harm done. I mean, I meant what I said in the letter, so that's okay. And, if she is still living there but just didn't get the letter, I'm sure he'll have something to say about me mailing something to him, considering he never gave me his address. Hee!
You better take it from me, that boy is like a disease
You’re running,you’re trying, you’re trying to hide
And you’re wondering why you can’t get free
He’s like a curse, he’s like a drug
You get addicted to his love
You wanna get out but he’s holding you down
‘Cause you can’t live without one more touch
He’s a good time cowboy casanova
Leaning up against the record machine
Looks like a cool drink of water
But he’s candy-coated misery
He’s the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
And he only comes out at night
Gives you feelings that you don’t want to fight
You better run for your life
I see that look on your face
You ain’t hearing what I say
So I’ll say it again
‘Cause I know where you been
And I know how it ends
You can’t get away
Don’t even look in his eyes
He’ll tell you nothing but lies
And you wanna believe
But you won’t be deceived
If you listen to me
And take my advice
Run run away
Don’t let him mess with your mind
He’ll tell you anything you want to hear
He’ll break your heart
It’s just a matter of time
But just remember
He’s a good time cowboy casanova
Leaning up against the record machine
Looks like a cool drink of water
But he’s candy-coated misery
He’s the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
And he only comes out at night
Gives you feelings that you don’t want to fight
You better run for your life ~ Carrie Underwood, "Cowboy Casanova"
And now for the Irony part of the evening: Sunday, when The Boy and I ran around to do errands, he insisted we go to the mall. "Why?" I asked. I was hoping it was because he wanted a Wetzel Pretzel or Cinnabon and that's really the only place to get it, but no. He took me into Zales. Guess why.
Yep. To look at rings. Do you see the skid marks from my virtual car sliding all the way through that green light because I was trying to make an illegal u-turn at the intersection?! My LORD - NOT NOW!
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