Prom was a lot of fun. And no, luckily there were no Prom Night Dumpster Babys. We don't go out often at all, but the other half made it look like we were seasoned pros by having happy dancing feet all night.
Went to Flixx beforehand for a primer cocktail. I used to work security/barbacking/bartending/VJ at Flixx, so I know pretty much everyone there and get treated pretty well when I show my face. It was early when we got there and no one was there but us and the bartender, we'll call him Bob. I had worked with Bob before and have never really been a fan to say the least, but have never had any real beef with him either. Not too dillusioned to not realize that it prolly was the fact that he showed up being all younger and cuter and all that shit just as I was growing out of my own twinkish faze.
Anyhow...we have a little game that we play with each other that pretty much goes like this, I'm going to say something that either makes your blood boil or effect you in some other dramatic fashion with such ease because I'm totally better than you. Yeah, I'm that mature. Well ladies.....he got me this time. Got me good.
"I have the displeasure of being roomates with Tim."
Double take, pregnant pause like Dorthy on the Golden Girls...."My ex-Tim?"
"Yeah, took me a while to figure it out. But he tried getting a job here and couldn't get hired because of a past fellony. When I found out it was domestic abuse and the way he talked about it, I was able to put two and two together and realized he's the one that broke your leg a few years ago."
What in the fuck can you say to that? I'm usually not at a loss for words, but my breath was devistatingly taken away. This girl's good.
I knew Tim was back in town. He moved away after he beat the living shit out of me on Christmas day over 3 years ago, in my home town where we were visiting my parents. Moved away to not have to face me for what happened, or anyone else that had anything to do to me after I helped keep him out of jail by telling the judge that he couldn't pay my medical bills in the slammer. Apparently 3 years is enough to cool things over and let everyone else forget. Bordering on living in the past or feeling sorry for myself, I haven't really let it go yet, and it's something that I haven't thought about in a while but has shaped my life into what it's been in the subsequent 3 years.
I don't ever talk about it, for as little it's been on my mind. I've always thought it would always just go away. I suppose a little therapy over the matter is a good idea, but it prolly would have been a better one 3 years ago. Violence really is traumatic. In my case, it's made me a little mean, a little bitter towards the world, untrusting of people in general, and ready to hit people when I get angry or distressed. This is what I learned in one night. Kinda sucks to realize just by a casual comment, and to know that the pain is still kinda there even though you would have swore that it's not. Fighting like hell to try and not let it effect the rest of your life is pretty much a losing battle, but really what else is there to do.
Exept blog about it and hope it leaves your system.
