Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Searching for Pictures

I deleted the post that was here and am replacing it with the following far more entertaining rant. The post that I had up previously was in regards to Shy Boy’s mother. She’s a very nice lady, crazy in a good way, which is right up my alley. However, she’s been acting strange lately in neurotic anticipation of a grandchild that should soon be born (in fact, he is being born as I write this post). I mistook her nervous craziness for intrusiveness. It was a pointless post really. I just needed to vent, but it had little entertainment value and didn’t make me look very nice either. I soon realized it’s waaaaaay more fun to make fun of Shy Boy himself rather than his close relatives, the innocent bystanders in his life (unless it’s truly called for of course). With that being said, onto today’s post, which is far more appropriate because it highlights my insanity...

I have a key to Shy Boy’s apartment. On weeknights, he tells me to let myself in if I arrive before he comes home from work. Now of course being the nosey James Bond loving spy (oops, fan, I mean fan) that I am, I’ve been through his medicine cabinet and I’ve peaked in his hall closet. There was nothing exciting in any of those places. No fungicidal medications or suspicious ointments I should be aware of. Tonight, however, there was something far more interesting to nose through. He left his bedroom door open and it looked as if he was in the process of cleaning out his bedroom closet. I peaked inside the room, but didn’t actually step into the room at first. Then, a Carrie Bradshaw moment overtook me. His personal items beckoned me to them, challenging me to find something sneaky, something interesting that Shy Boy might be hiding or not telling me. I say Carrie Bradshaw because there’s a moment in the “Sex and the City” series where Carrie finds a suspicious box in her boyfriend’s closet and goes crazy trying to open it and figure out what’s inside of it before her boyfriend comes home. During her desperate attempt, he comes home and finds her stooped on his bed trying to pry open the mystery box with a screw driver. I was just anticipating Shy Boy walking in on me as I greedily went through some sort of secret treasure.
The main thing that drew me into the room were some pictures scattered on Shy Boy’s night stand. At first I thought they were pictures I had given him because I recognized the first one, but then, hello…what’s this I found? Behind my picture there were two other pictures of a woman I did not know. In one picture, Shy Boy was standing next to the woman with his arm around her and his head tilted toward her with a smile on his face. In the other picture, the same woman was posing next to a former President of the United States. Judging by the picture of this mystery woman standing next to Shy Boy, I knew exactly who she was. But you, gentle reader, probably have no idea what I’m talking about. You see, Shy Boy was in a serious relationship before he knew me. A year and half before we met, he was engaged to a girl he had known for six months. After the seventh month, they broke it off. When he first told me the news about four or five months ago, I was surprised. I mean, he’s old enough to have had at least one serious relationship before he knew me, but at the same time, he used to be far more timid and shier than I am (hence his nickname in this blog), so the thought that he was almost married off while I remained a hip single girl searching for a nice Jewish boy seemed cosmically unfair. Yes, I am selfish. Keep in mind when he told me the news, I was not as committed to Shy Boy as I am now. On the other hand, maybe I was jealous at the time. I didn’t like the thought of someone else kissing him or him holding some other girl or him wanting some other girl. I hated hearing him say “my ex” even though he hardly ever said it. It felt unfair that I didn’t have a similar story about an ex to make him feel jealous over. Then again, I’m much more cautious about who I’ll date. I absolutely refuse to be with someone who might break my heart. At any rate, the months went on and Shy Boy recently felt more comfortable about telling me more about her. A few weeks ago, he asked me what’s the worst date I’ve ever been on and that led into a discussion about the ex and why it broke off. Apparently, her parents were too involved in their relationship. She wasn’t very loving. She hardly ever let him kiss her (makes sense, actually. He’s a great kisser now, but when we first kissed, he didn’t quite know how to respond). She was a very serious person. She never wanted to be zany like he sometimes likes to be. His job hours had been cut for a time and she insisted he get a second job even though he had a lot of difficulty doing so. She had wild mood swings and when he finally realized it wouldn’t work out and broke off the engagement, she threw the ring at him. She started prank calling him at odd hours after the break up as well.
I know he’d never go back to her. Nevertheless, the curiosity of what she looks like, what she sounds like, what her name is sometimes goes round my head. So when I found that picture of Shy Boy with his arm around a woman’s shoulder, I knew exactly who that woman was. I nearly dropped the photos out of shock. I don’t want to be mean, or should I? She hurt Shy Boy badly so why not be mean? Alright I’ll be cruel to be kind: the woman’s a horse. Wait, that was too blunt, too Sophia Petrillo ala “The Golden Girls.” The woman was visually astounding. How’s that? Sounds pretty good. You can’t tell if I’m saying it in a good way or a bad way (bad, bad way of course!) Was my Shy Boy desperate?? I guess that shows what a good person he is. He’s not interested in looks. He wants to get to know the person…wait, am I actually dating a man here? A person with a Y-chromosome? A person with testosterone? Maybe he’s a person who can’t see well. I’m not normally this mean, but if she couldn’t appreciate Shy Boy and hurt him to the point where he felt a fool and felt depressed after their split, I’m going to have a good jab at her. Call it a roast if you like. She had a very long chin, eyes that didn’t go in the same direction, a crooked face, frizzy hair, a physique that appeared a lot older than her age. In a contest of her versus me, I’d win hands down. It wouldn’t be a contest. She’d never stand a chance. Now, of course, I should be fair. I don’t know her side of the story. But Shy Boy is a very decent, extremely honest person, so I’m going to believe him when he described her personality to me.
In just a nick of time, I peaked out Shy Boy’s bedroom window and saw his car pulling into it’s parking spot. I placed the pictures back exactly as I found them on the nightstand. When he gave me a kiss as he came in through the door, I wanted to giggle at him. What did he see in that woman that made him want to propose after six months? I certainly could understand what he saw in me. But my goodness, Shy Boy must fall in love pretty easily to have allowed her to get so close to him. Or maybe he was just far younger and more naïve at the time. Who knows. I won’t dare bring it up.

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