Every once in a while, you get locked (literally, locked) in a room with a crazy person. Nowhere to go, no one else with you, no window to jump out of. Just you, crazy-eyes and a stack of papers you'll be filing together for the next 40 years or when you find a better job, which ever comes first.
Crazy-town talked without taking a breath for roughly 45 minutes, a favorite word of hers being "polyamorous", which quickly became my favorite word when recounting this story to anyone that would listen.
I'm not sure what it is about me that makes people feel like they can open up and tell me extremely graphic details about their lives but it's a curse I've had to deal with for years. However, I've been in enough of these "I'm going to try to shock you with my sexual past" scenarios that I know that no reaction is the best reaction. They just keep fishing, you keep on swimming. Usually, I'm unable to contain my judgement. I'm a judger. If you're weird, I will tell you how weird you are. Yesterday, however, I showed an enviable amount of restraint. I could feel her aching for me to ask, "wait a second, you SHARED a boyfriend with your gay boyfriend? gay? polyamorous? I am close-minded to your exploits!" but instead I nodded and said, "oh, yes that sounds like a good exercise in controlling jealousy!"
More examples of my enviable restraint:
Crazy: And THEN I got kicked out of the polyamorous arrangement and my gay ex went and lived with our shared boyfriend!
Kate: [why the FUCK is it always the disgusting people that engage in this type of behavior?!] Where do they live in the city? The South End is nice.
Crazy: I still get razor blades in the mail from my gay ex's stalker! I fear for my life!
Kate: [a gay stalker is not interested in a crazy fag hag who doesn't tweeze.] Like do they come in a package or an envelope?
Crazy: I get free karate lessons from a local dojo so I can protect the lives of me and my gay ex.
Kate: [Again, you're not what the gay stalker wants. Your efforts are futile.] I used to babysit a kid who did karate.
Crazy: I used to get really depressed about it but now I write Live Action Role Play online.
Kate: [of course you do.] writing can be therapeudic.
Let it also be said that as she told me this polyamorous, suicidal, bi-curious saga, she was clipping her nails. The clippings piled up on the table and, timed perfectly with the denoument of her perverse yarn, she scooped them up in her hands and threw them in the trash where they made the tiniest of tap-tap noises as they fell against the garbage bag.
There is no excuse to be THAT weird at 27. None. I'm 27 and my eccentricities go as far as occassionally dipping my pizza crust in Diet Coke and loving the show "Supersize vs Superskinny". Crazy-town was all around fucking weird. I don't understand HOW one gets like that and more importantly, why do these people always seem to think that I'm the one who will get it? Because I still have nerd-rage from high school, I sometimes worry that their confidences mean I'm one of them? Maybe I only think I'm cooler than they are? Why else would they think they could talk to me, confide in me?
Fuck that, I'm way cool and totally not polyamorous with gay dudes and dojos.
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