10:45 driving home from a friend’s house Saturday night I
wrecked my car. I am 29 years old and
have never been a wreck before.
I was freaking out. I
called my ex and told him he needed to get there- Now. He doesn’t have a car yet but he found a way
there.
He kept calling me back and asking me questions. What happened? Where are you? Whose fault was
it? Where was I parked now?
The questions never seemed to end.
Then he asked the big question.
Can you drive the car?
The answer was a resounding “Nope.”
I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but it took all I could to get
my car in the parking lot where my ex eventually found me.
By this point the cop has shown up and done nothing, the guy
I hit and I had exchanged information. I had photographed not only his car but
mine and had already gotten in touch with my grandfather and father. My mother didn’t answer so I text her.
Everyone was worried about me, physically I was fine.
Emotionally I was trying so very hard not to cry.
My ex had a friend look at the car, and he told me some technical
mechanic terms but basically…I need a new tie rod. He then explained what those
are. I can’t even try so if you really
need to know. Ask Lord Google.
Let’s fast forward to Sunday morning and my friend George* because
the only thing that is left is me crying at two a.m. while eating ice cream out
of the carton.
When he heard about my wreck, being that he is very
mechanically inclined he offered to help.
The part he said was about $60 and he could have it on in an hour. My car would not be pretty, but it could be
driven.
I was so stinking happy. Unfortunately the part was not in
stock anywhere in town. We got the part ordered and went to check on my
car. It was still there, looking sad…and
as I talked to the insurance company we waited for the wrecker. While waiting we
sat in his truck and chatted. Caught up on recent events and had a pleasant
time.
Once the car was
towed to my apt George* graciously bought me lunch and even went and picked up
my chest freezer I had ordered for me.
He really was my knight in shining armor that day.
Then my ex decided to let in on me or as he puts it “have a
heart to heart” which translates to:
“You’ve done something I don’t like so I’m going to make you
feel like shit.”
So yeah, I was genuinely confused. I didn’t know what I had done. Yeah, George and I had been intimate in the
past, we weren’t anymore, we still talked, but just as friends, we hadn’t seen
each other in months, over 5 of them to be exact and all of this was before my
ex and I had gotten together.
George offered to help me, because he is a nice person and
my friend and he knows how bad I need a car and that I can’t logically wait the
extraordinary amount of time the insurance company is going to take. He saw a
friend who needed help, despite our past, and he was there to help.
My ex on the other hand only saw the fact that I had slept with
him, months before I had met my ex mind you, and accused me of sleeping with
him again, like that weekend, and of that being the only reason George would
have helped me, basically saying that I was unworthy of kindness unless I was
sleeping with the person.
Like I, even though I am human being, am unworthy of a friend who
wants to help, just because we’re friend without any ulterior motive or coercion.
I couldn’t understand where all of this came from. I was so happy that I would be getting my car
back in a week instead of months and here he is accusing me, yelling and
cussing at me, accusing me of sleeping with someone that I haven’t seen in
MONTHS.
I felt ashamed of accepting his help, of wrecking my car, of
all the things that had made me so positive that day.
I shouldn't have let him make me feel that way.
I did nothing wrong.
I accepted help from a friend that was gracious enough to
help me.
There is no harm or shame in that.
I should be ashamed that I let him make me feel that way-
like I deserved less, like I was less, for accepting help from George*.
It boils down to he was jealous. He doesn't want me, but the thought of
someone else wanting me burns his biscuits.
Well, I hope he likes them burnt black.
