The Dol: Don't Let The B*stards Get You Down

So, back in the day, I dated a guy who stood me up about ninety percent of the time. I dated him for a solid year, maybe a little longer.

Why, you might ask, would a young lady with sterling dating credentials, such as I had, stick around for that? 

Well, b*stards like the one I dated keep rolling out all the ways they suck in a slow and steady stream, allowing you to adjust to one unsavory behavior at a time, so that before you know it, you're ok with having his ex-wife answer the door when you show up for dinner. Oh, and you're holding a roll of toilet paper for some reason that eludes you right now, and you feel like you're the one who needs to come up with an explanation.

I learned a few lessons from that b*stard. 

First, if someone stands you up, they need an iron-clad reason, and they don't get to do it again. 

Second, everyone has a certain number of grandparents. Each of them can only die once, hence they are only good for a certain number of "I had to go to a funeral" excuses.

Third, and this may shock you old-fashioned types, it is perfectly acceptable to break up with someone via e-mail. B*stards who don't show up for their own breakup don't get to be all choosy about that crap. With the advent of texting and Facebook, I'm sure you could adapt the media to suit your needs. Would that we could simply de-friend people from our lives.

Fourth, ok, that third one has a caveat: the b*stard won't like the e-mail breakup, and e-mail is great for passive-aggressive nastiness. And you just know that the b*stard is skilled in the fine art of passive aggression. Be prepared for a stream of insulting, pleading, and possibly threatening e-mails to come your way. 

If you block the b*stard's e-mail address, be prepared for the b*stard to cleverly create a new one so that he can continue harassing you about the box of junk he left in your spare room. Never mind that you have offered to leave the junk outside the door while you're at work for him to pick up. (Hint: throw the box in the dumpster, or, better yet, have a bonfire with your friends and get bombed while you curse his name.)

Because the point isn't about being reasonable when it comes to the b*stard. The point is about him having power over you. Once it hits the fan with this person, there will be no compromise and no quarter. There's only one way you can win, and that is to walk away. No matter what lies are hurled at you (or, embarrassingly--at co-workers, friends, or family members), you keep your mouth shut and your fingers off the keyboard.

So. One would think that, having learned these lessons about the b*stard, I would recognize one when I saw one again. 

I, apparently, am a sucker.

The b*stard showed up in my life again, this time not as a 6'5" black man with a bald head, but as a charming, attractive woman whom I knew only vaguely through political activism.

This time, the b*stard didn't want to date me or stand me up, she wanted to get me to organize a completely pointless meeting so that she could hear about another meeting that I was literally still in the middle of attending. It's boring, geeky, political stuff. The ten of us in the world who love this crap all know each other, and we like to have wild times, like a couple of weeks ago when we got together to freak out about how completely awesome the new party controller is. And this one time when we all licked stamps and mailed stuff.

It's not for everyone.

Anyhow, the new b*stard initially wanted me to hold a grand, public meeting, in which "disinterested Democrats" could come and hear about the process. They would then, apparently, be magically transformed into voting, blog-reading, single-payer advocates with MoveOn.org bumperstickers affixed to their, and their offspring's foreheads. I've done this before and quite frankly, it failed. Because the "disinteresed Democrats" happen to be disinterested. Or, like the interested Dems, they would have gotten active during the Obama campaign.

So, yeah, I said no thanks to spending 8 kajillion hours planning that failfest.

In an effort to disengage from an annoying Facebook conversation in which the new b*stard urged me to "listen to the people" or she would "take it to the streets," I offered to put the b*stard on my personal, you'd-have-to-love-me to read the reports, e-mail list. She could, among other geeky gems, mine my geeked out political updates on the aforementioned meeting. She wanted on the list.

At this point, I'm thinking I'm done. Oh, not even close. Remember that bit up above about what the b*stard really wants? Right, power over you. I forgot that little bit, or I would have proceeded directly to my fourth rule and just ignored her as soon as she asked me to do something stupid and pointless.

I'm just going to give you the Cliff's Notes version of the rest of the story:

E-mail arrives from b*stard, who has cc'ed a dozen other people, cheerfully inviting them onto my personal e-mail list. B*stard is asked to cease and desist. E-mail arrives from b*stard comparing me to movie star who doesn't something or other blar blar constituents, ruining of democracy, etcetera, etcetera. Second e-mail arrives from b*stard, cc'ing party leadership, accusing me of brutal dictatorship and genocide. B*stard has truly shocked me at this point, and, ok, I admit I might have cried just a little. The b*stard hurt my feelings, for crying out loud. After all, I only ever committed that one genocide but I was only a teenager and I don't think it's fair to hold it against me now.

It took me a good day, but I gathered my senses and realized that I was dealing with the b*stard again. 

I defriended the new b*stard on Facebook. You better believe she didn't like that maneuver. For now, at Polly's advisement, I haven't blocked her e-mails. Any engagement would only encourage the bastard. No need to fan the flames. And I have a pathological need to know if she's saying bad things about me.

Not really. I just don't want to miss out on the group announcements.

I admit that the b*stard had me on the ropes. Again. It was humiliating and a little horrifying to have her question my integrity to friends and colleagues of mine. But when I realized that it wasn't about me, really, it was about someone looking for a little square foot of power, I was able to just walk away from the discussion. Because there's no reasoning away crazy.

I prefer to use my energy to keep fighting the real evil powers of the universe, one for-profit health-care plan at a time. 

Comments

[Alice]

I think the best thing you can learn from crazy people, like this one you're talking about, is how to be crazy.

Really, thanks to her for a good lesson on crazy. Maybe you should even send a thank you note? Remember, you can't learn real true crazy from a book, trust me, I know.

[The Dol]

yeah, i'm definitely trying to find a positive or two in this whole thing, alice. if i ever decide to go batsh*t insane on someone over nothing, i have a really great template at this point.

[Rena]

OK, so first, I think we dated the same guy. Except my b*stard was a Hispanic intellectual loser with John Lennon glasses and a Christ complex. B*stards are tricky devils and can change shape at will.

Second, b*stards love the drama. So don't give it to her. Don't get sucked into her spiral and web of bi-polar misery. You did nothing wrong and she knows it. She's just doing this because the rest of her life is so meaningless that she has to do something to distract herself from her trite existence. You were the flavor du jour. Like a cat, she will cease to find you amusing once you play dead.

Third, she's probably not very bright, so she stands on the shoulders of intelligent people like you to elevate herself. When one person says no, she doesn't see it for what it is, but as potential exposure of her fraudulant status. Many people won't realize this about her, but many will. Drop those that are too dim to see the facts and stick with those that are.

[Polly Poppins]

I like Rena. She's smart. People should listen to her.

Just sayin.

And I adore The Dol. She's smart, too. And pretty. Even so, I humbly request not to be added to that geeky email list The Dol's got going. Not my particular flavor of geeky. I prefer eclectic and seemingly random trivia, quotes, and anecdotes, and case histories which need not be actual vetted facts.

But certainly, let there be no misunderstanding, I accept your invitation to the spa. And I raise you a Grey's Anatomy marathon. And if there is ever an email list extolling the spa and delectably trashy television, well, I would like to request in advance that you add my name to that one.

Also, the b*stards are weenies.

[The Dol]

rena, i heart you. you are so right. i'm sticking to my guns not to communicate with her any further, but this morning the drama has continued in another volley of e-mails, which has now extended to include candidates for public office. seriously, this woman has some big-time boundary issues. and way too much time on her hands.

polly, i always knew the limits of your love. i would never dream of putting you on my gov-geek e-mail list.

we are so going to the spa. and i think i am caught up on grey's anatomy, as far as netflix is concerned, but i'm sure we could find some trashy drama to marathon with.

[Alice]

Polly - can I be on the trivia, quotes etc e mail list? Can you start one of those? Kthanksbye

[B.]

Good night. How annoying. The FB defriending is quite the statement. What a freako.

[The Dol]

B., yeah she was seriously miffed about the defriending. She actually complained to our party chair about being defriended by me and a mutual friend, almost simultaneously. I'm not sure what he was supposed to do about it, but it sure did feel like seventh grade!