I know I have tried your patience with the whole Evil Surfer Dude saga. I dumped him.
As expected, he appeared on my doorstep the next day. I hid as he tried to jiggle the doors open. On his third attempt, he caught me. I had to face him.
Just to REALLY creep you out. I mean REALLY REALLY creep you out. Here is my pretend final letter to him. I won't send it. It's just a way of working out my feelings, then letting them go.
Dear Evil Surfer Dude, I would like to provide you with a list of your character flaws. If you ever secure the chance to be with a real woman again you will have this little road map clarifying the areas you need to work on. You’re welcome. I know, I’m too kind.
EMOTIONALLY AND FINANCIALLY CHEAP
You have knack for giving nothing. You did it all summer. You never took me out for a nice dinner. Not once. Fyi: Fast food restaurants don't count. Our last date at Pick up Stix was the final straw. Ok, call it the final stick. I spent more money on food (cooking) then you did. According to you, you are so “wealthy” that you plan to retire at 55. You have 256K in the bank… remember?
Your one and only gift to me was a $1.99 pair of cheap flip-flops.
You don’t have a cell phone or Microsoft Office. Rather then buy the software you asked to pirate mine. And you claim to have worked in the computer industry? Huh?
The sheer magnitude of your lies was astounding. The one that freaked me out the most was the one you told Patricia (the woman chased on line after just a month with me). I found her and we communicated and foiled your plot to meet (she stood you up).All the while declaring your love for me, demanding a commitment. You advised her in excruciating detail what you were working on in the lab down to each instrument you were using, each scientific protocol (like you did with me). But you were unemployed!
Telling me you were admitted into medical school was interesting. When I asked you how you did on your MedCATS…you had no option but to fold. In retrospect, I’m sure you lied about everything…professional surfer, minor league baseball for Mariners. According to you, you played almost every professional sport. You don’t exist in any record of any sport. In addition, the fact that you would not show me your resume (you’re a scientist, right?) was suspicious. You must be a lab tech.
Your phone never rang, not once when I was at your house. You have no friends. My uncle, a psychiatrist, advises that an important quality to look for in a man is evidence that he has a couple of good male friends. If a man has no male friends, he is psychologically and socially suspect. I have no doubt that your father damaged you by beating you and your mother and then leaving. He sounded like a disgusting man, never paying child support while you and your mother struggled. Or was that a lie ?
You became jealous when I was on my cell phone. I stopped answering it when I was with you -just to avoid your attitude. I always wondered if you would become abusive (like your father). In a perverse way, I almost hoped you would so that you would see how a normal woman would react. You would have been in jail so fast you head would have spun. Unless you’d killed me. Ok…um, scratch that fantasy.
One of my favorite quotes was the whole “I love you” but I’m not in love with you crap. I would expect that from a teenager, perhaps. It was only interesting in light of your constant, incessent pleading, “Do you love me?”, as if you were a child.
Today as we ran my errands and you were trying to repair our realtionship, you walked behind me like a mute child. Of course men don’t like you. Men don’t like weakness, neither do I. Certainly you would never offer to pay for anything. Some men buy little things for their woman on occasion, like a $10.00 lip-gloss perhaps. A gesture.
Your selfishness was epic. Only once did you agree to do one (1) thing I wanted. I forced you after the Patricia situation. That was to take me to Bandara restaurant so that I could actually make contact with a vegetable. You acted like a petulant child, trying so hard to dislike the place. You made sure I knew it too, so that I would be uncomfortable...ruin it for me. What a jerk. You could have been polite like I was at Pick of Stix. Which gave me heartburn, by the way.
You constantly told me what you wanted, what you liked, what I should cook for you. As if you were placing an order. This is not Burger King. You can't have it your way". You obsessively told me about your mother, endlessly recounting tales from boyhood as if it was your most immediate past. You’re 53. We never talked about me.
DEAD X GIRLFRIENDS
The “my only other two (2) girlfriends died” comment was as compelling as it was frightening. I told my sister. When I would fail to answer my phone she was on the verge of calling 911. Further, you have no family. None. Weird. Did you kill them too?
You insulted me every time you did not get your way. The irony is that I have the mother-load of insults for you. But I will keep it to myself because there is nothing you can do about it. (Blog readers, the insult is of an anatomical nature…if you get my drift.)
That's it. You may now go about your day.