In my dream, I was in the midst of a break-up scene with Bruce in which I was exceedingly emotional
I like to play this game called “Is He Dead?”. Last night I played with Hank Kissinger. I was watching TV with the roommates and Condi Rice came on to speak about her assessment of the Middle East thingamajig. I turned to roommate two and said: “Where is Kissinger when you need him?” Roommate one answered, “I think he’s senile.” Being the person I am, I said, “Really, I thought he was dead.”
A Wiki search later revealed that the big HK was not only not dead, but according to his web site, the Old Kiss’er is still active and not in the least bit senile.
I got that really wrong.
What I didn’t get wrong is how annoyed I felt at the couple next door that decided to have a protracted conversation regarding the dregs of their relationship. I probably wouldn’t have been so annoyed if A) the conversation hadn’t happened at 3 AM and B) she hadn’t been sobbing hysterically.
Edited for clarification: This conversation happened outside on their front porch. My bedroom window faces their porch. Their house is separated from my house by a driveway. This all means, that my head was about 3 yards away from their conversation.
From what I can gather, she and he have no business being together. I base this on the fact that her caterwauling woke me from a dead sleep at 3 AM. Also, based on the fact that she shouted at him: “What I do at lunch time is eat lunch. I don’t call people and go eat lunch with them. How could you do that to me?” (also you should read this in that tone that young women have learned from Sex and the City which implies that she is speaking in highly logical terms and the man is clearly a knuckle-dragging moron). I gathered that the he in this situation had eaten lunch with another she. The first she found out about the second she, and apparently not from the he. The first she flipped the fuck out and felt that she was entirely betrayed.
In my sleep-addled mind I remembered thinking, what a twat. Seriously, she sounded A) crazy B) insane and C) like she was out of her mind. I also had the very real thought that on any given day Bruce eats both lunch and dinner with women. I am neither concerned nor threatened.
I ignored my city-style instinct to shout out my window that thing 1 and thing 2 need to break up and let me get some sleep (I’m Puerto Rican, it’s in our nature to holler from windows). I figured the poor girl was learning enough of a lesson and she didn’t need to know that the entire neighborhood was hearing her break down and beg for this guy to love her better than he has been, better than he can. As tough as I am, and as tough as I was inclined to be, I just felt so bad for this girl who was publicly displaying her tears. There is just something so disconcerting about witnessing the death rattle of a relationship. So I gave that poor girl something I would never want, the pity of a stranger, and I let her be.
But if the bitch doesn’t wise up and there is another public display of disaffection, I will be all leaning out windows and tell her to shut the hell up. It was 3 AM after all.