Hey, if I have one downfall, it's riding a horse that won't go anywhere...and that's pretty much how this mess went. Turns out in the end, she was a psychiatrist...yes, a self proclaimed shrink. I did not know that until our final phone conversation, which wasn't really a conversation seeing how she did all the talking...and that it only lasted...hang on, let me check my cell phone...56 seconds...oh, and she hung up on me. In this 56 second time span, she diagnosed me as passive-aggressive...yep, I got real problems according to her.
Let me tell you how this self-appointed mental expert came to her conclusion. We had a dinner date earlier in the week and toward the end of our meal, I asked her if she'd like to go dancing Friday night. She said yes...maybe...we'd see. I left it at that figuring we'd nail it down the following night over the phone. Well, I dialed her number the following night and got no answer....shrugged it off and went on about my business Thirty minutes later I got a text message from her that said..."Girls night out...out with friends..." I replied, "Be good and have fun." and went on to bed. I'm sure you're beginning to pick up on these signs of passive-aggressive behavior, right? Next morning, Friday...the day we may or may not go dancing...I shoot her a text, "It's Friday and no plans for tonight?" She replies with, "Off to work, have a good day." Well hell...I just like to know if I have something going on or if I need to move onto Plan B so I sent a follow up text, "I guess still no plans for tonight?" Well, you guessed it...no reply. I gave her a good ten hours to reply...nope, nothing. Ten hours...that's pretty patient. I guess you could say it was passive?
I come home from work at five with not a clue whether I have a date in a couple of hours or not. I'll admit I was a bit perturbed...hell's bells...a fella's got a right to know, don't ya think. I waited patiently until six o'clock then picked up the phone and called her...no answer. I'll admit...I was a bit pissed by six thirty when I shot off a text that said, "Phone go dead again?...this ain't funny anymore." I guess that was the aggressive part of the passive-aggressive behavior, huh? I got an immediate response. The phone rang and she said, "What's that mean?" I replied that I just needed to know if we had plans tonight or not...so I'd know whether to show up or not. She replied,"Well yes, we're going dancing. I'm fixing to get in the shower." I laughed and told her I just needed to know so I could get cleaned up. We hung up and all seemed well...for ummmm...sixty seconds. A text came in and before I could read it, she was calling..."I just saw the texts from this morning and read that last one you sent...that's passive-aggressive behavior...I will not deal with that! I will be going dancing by myself tonight." Then she hung up. I read the text which said the exact same thing...I reckon she felt the need to call me up and read it to me just in case. So...in 56 seconds, four months of hard work on a relationship doomed to fail...ended.
I layed my phone down...passive-aggressive? Google that...hmmmm. I read all the definitions and symptoms of the disorder and came to the conclusion...by gosh...SHE'S passive-aggressive! Not a damn one of those symptoms fit me but every one of them nailed her right betwen the eyes. I spent a half hour reading up on the disorder trying to gain some insight as to why she pinned that disorder on me...I came up with nothing. Out of all the disorders I could have...I'm positive I don't have passive-aggressive behavior.
I layed my laptop down and it dawned on me that I was far more upset that I had been labeled with a mental disorder than the fact that I had just lost my girlfriend. I pondered that for a few minutes and realized that I felt relieved. Damn, maintaining a relationship is very hard work...especially when you're the only one doing the maintaining. As I was basking in my feeling of relief, my buddy called. I filled him in on my disorder and he said, "Let me call a councilor friend of mine and ask her about it...call ya right back." He did and I answered the phone, "I told her everything I knew about your relationship and she said it sounds like you've been playing second-fiddle...she says it's the classic signs of another man under the bed." I thought for a moment then replied, "Well...I'm not sure if that makes me feel any better. I might have liked it better when I had a mental disorder." He laughed, then grew serious, "She threw that disorder on you for a reason. She really wants you to go away and if you don't, she'll start crap about you stalking her and harrassing her and all...ya got to leave her alone." He got a breath, "I been there before. I had a girl friend that swore I was manic-depressive and bi-polar. I went to lots of doctors...they couldn't find nothing wrong with me. Sorry for your luck." I laughed, "No, no...I'm good. I had a note on my windshield at work the other day from the little blonde...and the other gal up there still has the hots for me. Hell, I turned down an invitation from a woman to go to Ruidoso this weekend...dammit!" He laughed, "Don't forget about the girl up at the bar that told you you was welcome to spend the night at her place anytime..." I giggled, "Yeah, and how about that gal....."
That's right folks...
The Rusty Goat is back!
Dealing With Women
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, "See all those women out there? There's something wrong with every damn one of them." My buddy and I were sitting at the bar one Saturday night a few weeks ago talking about our woman problems. I surveyed the hundred plus women mingling around the bar and nodded my head. "Ya know..." I began, "You can't pick a woman and try to deal with her issues. You have to pick an issue you can deal with, and take the woman that comes along with it."
I just don't know about women. They're pretty. They smell good...generally. They feel pretty good...but it's kinda like they got a fouled plug wire up there in their brain. Their thinkin' usually don't make any sense to us guys. We struggle to comprehend what makes them think the way they do. We almost always fail miserably in our attempts to figure them out. I think that's why the Good Lord gave us men such a healthy sex drive. It gives us the ability to sit there and listen to them ramble on and on about something that makes no sense to us...all the time thinkin' to ourselves..."I bet she looks pretty hot with her clothes off!" Yep, that's how we deal with 'em...ain't that right guys?