Well. The past week has been quite the fiasco thanks to all the dramz between my friend Taylor and her grabby boyfriend Andy, who hit on me big time at her birthday party. I asked you girls to decide if I should tell Tay about her scuzzy BF and the answer was an overwhelming YES!
So, as always, I listened. Here’s what went down:
I spent all week steeling myself to spill the truth to Taylor, and had already decided that she would probably call me a liar and banish me from her life forever.
The second she sat down to brunch, everything just came tumbling out. The party, the closed door, the hair twirling—the whole sordid tale. I didn’t even look up the entire time I was talking, I was too afraid that she’d begun to breathe fire or was loading a gun or something.
Instead, she just sat there, arms crossed and brow furrowed, with a far away look on her face.
“Tay…?” I said slowly once I’d finished. “Are you OK? Please know that I’m not saying this to hurt—”
“I knew it,” she said suddenly. “I knew something was wrong.”
Now it was her turn to unload—for months, she’d had this nameless, niggling feeling about Andy. She couldn’t put her finger on it but something about him was…off.
“He would disappear for hours at night and then freak out if I asked where he’d been, saying I was invading his privacy,” she explained. “And I thought I saw him grope a cocktail waitress one night when we were out. But none of that seemed like enough to dump him, you know?
But my incident with him was. Taylor said that in a weird way, she felt relieved to have an iron-clad excuse to break things off.
“Thank you, Shallie,” she said through tears, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. That weekend, she moved out of their apartment and in with her brother up town.
YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
It’s Saturday night, I’m lounging around with B watching The Expendables 2 (terrible movie, btw, do not see it) when my phone rings: Andy. For sure he was calling to scream and holler at me for ruining his romance with Taylor, right?
Uh, not exactly.
“So looks like we can finally take things to the next level,” he purred into the phone. I felt like I was hallucinating.
“I mean that’s why you told Taylor, right? Whatever. I’m over her, she was crazy anyway. What are you up to tonight? Come over.”
I just…did he?…I can’t even.
“Listen to me Andy and listen good,” I hissed. I guess I’d absorbed all of this raging testosterone by osmosis from the movie and was rarin’ to go. “You think Taylor was crazy? Well I’m a lunatic with no fear of jail and a clean record. You know what that means? It means I can light you up with a tube sock full of quarters and get off with probation, which I will gladly accept to defend my honor and that of Taylor’s, you got it? So if you ever, EVER come near us again, I am coming after you.”
As with all my crazy rants, I had no idea what that was actually supposed to mean. But the bluff sounded menacing enough, right? I mean who wants to get attacked by a sock full of coins? Not me. And, if his stammering apology was any indication, not Andy either. 🙂
Unfortunately, I did this whole thing in front of B, who hadn’t known anything about the saga. Now, he wants to sit down with Andy and “have a little chat” with him but I just want to let sleeping dogs lie, you know? Plus, Andy is nutso—what if things turn violent and he takes a swing?? I’d never forgive myself. What should I do, girls?