Random acts of kindness

Random Acts of Kindness that have Turned me into a Complete Asshole

So hey, welcome to my inaugural blog. I wasn’t too sure what my first subject should be, I’ve got a lot of ideas floating around up here. A lot of the subjects I want to touch on are kind of out there, so I figured for my first blog I’ll try and do the best to explain why I am the way I am, and so you have: Random Acts of Kindness that have Turned me into a Complete Asshole

For those of you who don’t know me personally, probably the most informative and character building experience I’ve gone through in my short life was my relationship with my high school sweetheart who, for legal reasons I must refer to as Ms. Shitwhore McDouchebag.

We met my senior year of high school and we really just took off running. We were best friends, we were in love, we spent every moment we could together, songs that I hated on the radio actually made sense to me. It was really a kind of happiness that can only occur when you’re that young and haven’t been properly spat on and sodomized by the real world. We both had kind of messed up home lives and we were each other’s release. Her situation got so bad that even though I had no money, no savings, no degree, no health insurance and a minimum-wage job scooping ice cream I still managed to find us an apartment where she could get away and be happy. And it was far and away the most selfless and terrifying thing I’ve ever done for someone.

So what, you say. You rescued the princess from the evil tower, brought her back to your kingdom and lived happily ever after. Well fuck you, buddy, it ain’t as simple as that

As soon as I got her out of there she started to hate me. Our first night together, which I was led to believe would be a “fuckfest” turned into a “clusterfuck” when she decided to spend four hours crying. Then left at midnight to sleep at her parents. Her abusive, emotionally distant, childhood-ruining parents’ house. That she moved out to get away from.

And I’m not at all controlling or anything, it wasn’t like I was forbidding her from contacting her family or anything, and our apartment was two miles down road from her parents. Literally the same road.

So I started doing some more stuff for her. I’d go 15 minutes out my way on the way home from work to get her a sandwich from her favorite deli, I always went shopping with her and always got the food she wanted. I cooked, I cleaned, and I went down on her like it was my job. I did everything that my brain told me was what any guy should do for his girlfriend.

And then we started fighting. No big deal. Couples fight, they make up, they make love and they start over again. And she knew that I hated fighting and would say or do almost anything to get past it.

“Baby, it’s 2am and you just drove home drunk off your ass, what’s the matter with you?”
“C’mon Kevkev, you know I’m not drunk.”
“But sweetie, you reek of Jager and lost aspirations…and you parked your car in the neighbor’s driveway…sideways…again.”
“YOU DON’T WANT ME TO HAVE ANY FUN.”

And then she would grab her pillows throw them on the futon and she’d grab a blanket from the laundry room and she’d throw them on the futon and then she’d collapse on the futon and that was that. Because I’m a gentleman, I’d always wait for her to pass out, make sure she was on her side so that if she vomited she wouldn’t choke on it and die in her sleep. Because that’s what love was to me.

For 2 years that was my definition of love. And don’t start with that “you’re an enabler you’re codependent, if she was living in your house then you could have stopped it.” Macho bull crap. At the end of the day I had a job and she had free will and a car. And since she was only 18 at the time she always drank at HER PARENTS HOUSE. HER PARENTS HOUSE. HER PARENTS HOUSE. HER ABUSIVE, ALCOHOLIC PARENTS HOUSE. It wasn’t exactly like I could storm the place and run out with her over my shoulder. Her father and both older brother are career stone-masons. I have weigh 132 pounds and have scoliosis. And that family was not about to give up the only member who hadn’t ruined her credit yet.

And this went on for 2 years. If you don’t understand why someone would do this to themselves, it is very simple. Dating an alcoholic is awesome. You go out, you have a great time and then most nights you have wild freaky stupid sex and then you go about your life. But when you’re in love with an alcoholic, and watch them destroy themselves day after day after day after day after day all you want to do is help them which is of course a ridiculous concept unless they want to help themselves. If someone is sick and won’t take medicine, telling them about how great it is being healthy won’t fix a goddamn thing. But that’s what I would do, I’d try and reason with her and tell her what she was doing to herself and to me and I would do all these stupid romantic gestures, I would rent stupid movies and I’d buy wine and I’d give foot rubs all in the hopes that I could kill this thing with kindness.

And I did this right up until the day I thought I finally won. We had just come back home from a nice dinner, she had drank a lot but that was ok because I could drive her home *love* and when we got in our apartment she told me to get ready for bed. And I did. Expectantly. And I fell asleep waiting for her. When I woke up the next morning she had still not joined me, and I found her in our guest room asleep with my best friend, who apparently had a key and was waiting for her there when we had gotten home the night before, as they had done many times before.
So that was my first lesson in what happens when you try to help some people. And it just happened at a terrible time kind of because it happened in January of 2010, right in the beginning and it just shut me down for the rest of the year. It wasn’t even the breakup that killed me, it was just that no matter how hard I tried I could not fix this girl I loved and then she’d emotionally curb stomp me for my troubles.

That first act of kindness did in fact turn me into an asshole, but it was the second act which turned me into a COMPLETE asshole.

This one was, thankfully, much milder than the first one but somehow it was almost as disturbing to me. But she was the first girl I hung out with after that breakup, and it only took about a year and a half for me to get to that point. But this girl was just amazing. She was educated AND intelligent, which in my life I have discovered are NOT the same thing. I could have coherent conversations with her, she was interesting, and this girl just simply beautiful. Like, why is she even talking to me kind of beautiful. Like she should be with a rock star or a doctor kind of beautiful. Not only that, but the cherry on top was that she was single. Some goddamn how, this smart, interesting beautiful single chick wanted to spend time with me and I was more than happy to make that happen.

So we started spending some time at her apartment. And by apartment, I mean vacant office building she found. The apartment was furnished in about the same way all the apartments were furnished in the Lower 9th Ward after Katrina. Yeah, I kinda have a thing for damsels in distress. So, because I wasn’t a complete asshole yet, I wanted to get her something nice. What did you get her, you ask?

Well it just so happened that she mentioned she had some major sunburn. Jackpot, get her an aloe plant. So I go across town to the organic nursery and buy an insanely overpriced aloe plant, then drive back to her side of town and leave it on her doorstep since she’s not home.
You’re probably thinking something along the lines of “Wow Kevin, you’re such a sweetheart.” Or “Gee, she must have been sooooo grateful.” Well calm down with a nice cold glass of fuck- you juice, cuz that ain’t how it worked out. Here’s the abbreviated version of the conversation we had later that terrible, terrible night:

(Also for legal reasons, we’re going to call her Sasha.)
Sasha: Did you get me an aloe plant?
Kevin: Yes
S: Maybe it was one of my neighbors
K: No, it was me
S: Are you sure?
K: Yea, pretty sure
S: I don’t believe you
K: No, it was me, I promise.
S: Well I’m going to ask a few more people
K: Ummm, it’s in clay pot with a matching clay saucer and a red tag from Wards Nursery right?
S: But the clay was made in Italy…
K: You think someone came over from Italy, left you a gift without telling you, and then I saw it and took credit for it without thinking that this random Italian would ever tell you?
S: I’m so confused

It’s at this point that I was very glad we were texting and not talking, as it was about here that I began screaming at my cat, sobbing, and putting lit matches our on my body just to make sure I could still feel something. I only saw her one time after that, and that was to throw the receipt in her face. I was hoping it would go down her throat and she would choke (I’m still talking about the receipt here.) Then I would save her and finally get the thank you and reluctant handy I felt I was entitled to.

EPILOGUE
So a few months after Shitwhore and I broke up, she in turn broke up with my friend for another guy. A guy she had met at her house. Her first cousin to be exact. When she told me who she was dating (Oh yes, I heard the words from her own mouth, this is NOT a rumor and I am NOT Shakespeare and would never think to make something like that up) every single cell in my body shit its pants. To this my balls still shrivel a little bit when I think that it was probably happening while we were still together…

Sasha now lives in New Jersey. She may have made me feel like a complete schmuck after that one night, but I would never wish that fate on anybody.

And those are the reasons, ladies and gentlemen, why I am a complete asshole.