I should have seen it coming. It was like a long courtship with the girl in the micro-mini at the bar who just keeps ordering drinks and putting her hand on your chest when you make a joke and you keep thinking, “This is too good to be true,” until the end of the night when she vomits in the men’s room and her friend carries her home. Only instead of a bar, it’s my apartment. And instead of ordering drinks and putting her hand on my chest, it’s telling me she can’t wait to take over my lease and offering to buy my unwanted furniture. And instead of vomiting and stumbling home, she “got recruited for this amazing colorist job” (the fuck?) which might or might not have her moving to Los Angeles.
I’m not bitter because she wants to chase her dream of coloring people’s hair in Los Angeles. I’m bitter because chasing her dream to color people’s hair in Los Angeles means I have one week to find someone to take my apartment. What’s next, a perky blond rolling in, falling in love with the place, and then, mere hours before coming in to sign the lease, being recruited by the World Health Organization to cure bird flu?
I’m also bitter because coloring people’s hair in Los Angles is a stupid dream, and now some kid in Rochester won’t grow up to invent the artificial brain, because everyone knows there are only a limited number of dreams to go around.
UPDATE: After a brief conversation with a friend, I was reminded that I have this girl’s entire background history, leading to this email exchange:
Me: “The best part? Me having an extensive amount of background information on her, including her current address and cell phone number. Actually, that might be the bad part, because this email will turn up as evidence at the hearing.”
John: “Screw that. We just found our activity for late night on Saturday after we're drunk for James' birthday. ‘WHO WANTS TO PLAY HARASSMENT!?!?!’”
Me: “Yeah, as long as it's not my cell phone (because she knows the number) then ALL RULES ARE OFF! Except for actually threatening her life, which I think is definitely illegal, although we have already established, through jerry, what you can accomplish with the power of suggestion.”
Note – Jerry, whose gay tattoos are mentioned here, was a guy we occasionally hung out with until he decided to remain friends with a girl who cheated (severely) on our buddy. After that, we prank called him from Maui posing as a fortune teller, warning him of a bleak future including a fire of some sort. Without the applicable New York statutes open in front of me, I’m reluctant to say more than that.
UPDATE 2: Before I even had time to post the update that she called back and said that she was not moving to Los Angeles and, in fact, she DID want the apartment, I get an email from her saying that, in really fact, she’s not taking the apartment because she’s not moving anymore. The really good news is that any violence towards her from the point on can be considered self-defense.
Judge: “How does the defendant plead?”
Me: “Not guilty by reason of she was causing me an aneurysm and this was the only way to stop her.”
Judge: “Beating her with a rock was the only way to stop her?”
Me: “Yes, she was quite resistant, and my fist wasn’t having the effect I was hoping.”
UPDATE 3: My first response to a new craigslist ad:
“How are you^^
looking for studio.
I'd like to make appoinment for viewing.
My name is lee.
phone no. xxx-xxxx