Filling an ex-boyfriend’s truck with trash… a DIY story. Texas Pt 2
Shortly after I started blogging, I wrote one of my favorite posts— a departure from anything house-related, it was the story of how my best friend and I packed up and moved to Texas.
But I ended up taking part of the story out: the part about how we filled an ex-boyfriend’s truck with trash.
At the time, I was new to this whole idea of over-sharing with total strangers on the internet, and I cautioned myself to exercise some restraint.
But I’ve developed a sense of (possibly misguided) friendship with you total strangers, and I really want to tell you this story… Plus, you know, restraint just really isn’t my thing.
In Texas, Lara and I lived in an apartment with no furniture. We had no beds. No dressers. No shelves. Nothing.
We bought two plastic lawn chairs, two futons without the frames, and acquired a piece of foam we called the “sofa.”
Other than that, the apartment was basically empty.
But after awhile, it wasn’t so empty anymore.
After awhile, it was pretty much full of crap.
And shoes.
Eventually, it came time to leave Texas and move home, and we were astounded at how much stuff we had accumulated.
We learned that when you are moving, you end up throwing so much stuff away… even though much of the stuff is still perfectly useful, no one at Goodwill wants a used shower-liner, half-burned candles, or the semi-broken umbrella that requires you hold it open with both hands and run really fast.
One night when we were packing, Lara came out of her room holding something worthless but not useless— a distinction that stymied both of us. She waived it at me and said— it’s such a waste to just throw all this stuff away!
And I said — OH MY GOD. Let’s give it to Rob.
LET’S GIVE IT ALL TO ROB.
Which is how we ended up filling Rob’s truck bed with the detritus of our apartment.
Rob was a wildly-entertaining jackass, who had initially only revealed his charm.
He had fooled one of us into thinking that spending time with him was fun. Until we ran into him, unexpectedly, at a bar. Where he was with his girlfriend.
This was surprising. As it always is, to learn the existence of a previously-unknown-but-important-and-perception-changing-detail.
Rob ignored us until his girlfriend went to the bathroom. Then he came over and said— look, I didn’t tell you, but I have a girlfriend. Don’t make a scene.
Then he walked away.
Are those his exact words? No.
Is it possible he was slightly more diplomatic? Yes.
However. There is only so much diplomacy you can bring to that interaction.
Lara and I looked at each other with the specific combination of incredulity and rage and hysteria that only your best friend understands.
We were stunned. Not just at his bold disregard for polite conversation, but by our unacceptable lack of snappy comebacks. Or, failing wit, simply punching him in the face.
We said things like— his ponytail should have clued us in… But what we really meant was: how did we miss the giant sign on his forehead? The big neon one that said: Beware! I am a total ass.
I am pretty sure it’s a universal-dating-experience that at some point, someone you hardly know, will treat you like shit, for reasons that have nothing to do with you.
And the worst part is that instead of having a true response, you will do nothing.
Partly because you have no idea what to do. And partly because you are operating according to a totally-insufficient code, cobbled together from bullshit your mother told you, and a self-protective wish to quickly build a time machine, travel backwards, and avoid the grievous misstep of having liked him to begin with.
But YOU ARE TOO LATE.
You are too late because you have already failed to care less than he does. So now you cannot have any reaction at all, because he might interpret one as caring, and that would be radically incorrect.
The only option is to back away. Quickly. With whatever exploded bits of your dignity are left… sweeping up scraps and stuffing the pieces in your pockets and saying— oh excuse me, can you just lift your foot? You’re standing on a shred of my self-esteem.
Logic would dictate that you simply walk away… However, when you are 23, nothing is dictated by logic. Especially dating.
So instead of walking away and rolling your eyes, you spend a lot of time thinking about it. And suffering reoccurring-mortification-flashbacks. And dwelling on how you did NOTHING.
This becomes the crux of the matter: your failure to defend your dignity. Either by wryly cutting him down to size, or by carrying grenades in your handbag.
In Rob’s case, it took no time at all to realize he was an idiot and not deserving of one second of heartbreak or sadness. But it took nearly three months to realize what he was deserving of— shelf liners, broken umbrellas, and everything else we were throwing away.
All the crap we’d accumulated.
All the crap we didn’t know what to do with.
All the crap that was worthless but not useless.
Broken umbrellas. Half-burned candles. Christmas gift-bags. Deformed foam cushion. Scented body lotion. Plastic ice cube trays. Flimsy aluminum pizza pan. Cleaning gloves. Half-full bottles of dish soap, shampoo, conditioner, vinegar, ketchup. Wrapping paper. The phone book. Tin foil. Saran wrap. Junk mail. Catalogs. The bag of empty cans and bottles for recycling. A red tablecloth. Markers. Greeting card envelopes. Happy Birthday streamers. Plastic cups. Broken picture frames. Shelf liners.
If we could have fit our futons into the car, we would have given him those too.
Rob did us the favor of working nights and parking in the middle of a mostly-empty lot… We pulled up right next to his truck and opened all of our car doors.
We paid attention to detail — aligning the shampoo and conditioner for him. Arranging all of the condiments and kitchen items together, neatly, in case he wanted to take them home and put them in his own refrigerator. We propped the umbrella open, so that he could see it was still in working order.
For aesthetic balance and dramatic flair, we draped the shower liner over his windshield.
I cannot say that he took the time to appreciate our efforts.
After we unloaded everything, we drove across the street and waited in an unlit lot… We sat on the hood of our car and talked about how glad we were, to give him such a heartfelt gift.
At 10 pm, we watched him casually walk out of work and then start running to his truck… We watched him rip and throw it all into the parking lot.
He didn’t just look mad.
He looked insanely mad.
He tore through it without appreciating that it was more than trash—it was an art installation.
A tableau.
A message that said— you are an ass, and now we will remember you fondly.
Lara and I were crying. I fell off the car onto the pavement because I was blind from the gallons of water pouring out of my eyes.
I kept saying— what is happening? What is happening? Lara, I cannot see what is happening!
DID HE TAKE THE UMBRELLA?
We sat there, paralyzed— laughing and crying and trying to breathe. The kind of laughter where you think you might vomit or have a seizure or worst case scenario— suffer cerebral hypoxia from lack of oxygen to your brain.
After he left, the parking lot was strewn with trash and semi-trash. There were drawer-liners blowing away in the night.
Eventually we picked ourselves up and went across the road. We retrieving the foam cushion, the plastic utensils, the yellow pages.
We shoved it all back into the car while saying things like—he didn’t want any of it? These drawer liners were practically brand new.
We sped home— delightedly anticipating the angry voicemail— but there was nothing.
NOTHING. For months and months. Until we’d long been home, back in our respective states. And someone called me and said—maybe this is going to sound crazy? But did you and Lara fill Rob’s truck with trash?
And I was like, how is that even a question?
September 23, 2014 @ 11:28 am
You’re absolutely right. Restraint is a HIGHLY overrated virtue. I once hired someone to slap a pie in an ex’s face. And I got to watch. Extremely satisfying.
September 23, 2014 @ 11:31 am
Absolutely adore you, Lara, and the entire story. It was wonderful and just what I needed to see this morning. Cheers and what a cool memory.
September 23, 2014 @ 11:34 am
Well, you already knew he was an ass; not taking a perfectly good umbrella when it was so artfully offered to him, just proves it!
September 23, 2014 @ 11:54 am
OH EM GEE. This is possibly the best thing ever. I don’t know why anyone would expect anything less from you 🙂 This might be better than the Kingdom Mirror story.
September 23, 2014 @ 11:57 am
OMG, hysterical………how I wish I had been part of your friendship growing up- brilliant minds think alike and I always did adore my partners in crime!!!
September 23, 2014 @ 11:57 am
Fantastic “partners-in-crime” aka bestie story & photos. Made me giggle. Sounds so much like me and my friends at that age. I love that he tried to fact check so many months later. Priceless. Even though when in these situations, we are hard on ourselves for not having the snappy comeback at hand, this makes a much more lasting impression. One he won’t forget. Love it!
September 23, 2014 @ 12:04 pm
Love this! Love you even more for coming clean with this awesome story! What a jerk for not appreciating your gift but further more for littering! He deserved it just for leaving his doors unlocked. You were brilliant with sitting around to watch! I would have forgotten that part of the plan and missed out on the ever lasting memory of victory.
September 23, 2014 @ 12:22 pm
I’m practically laughing till I’m crying right now. This is just about the funniest thing I’ve ever read. Thank you!
September 23, 2014 @ 12:23 pm
It’s always so much more fun when you have a friend who helps you to defend your dignity. I have a couple of like that. I’m blessed. I love it that he drove a truck and that you were able to give him such a warm and thoughtful gift. While he didn’t show it at the time, it’s obviously one that he will remember for the rest of his life…or at least did for several months after the fact.
A very long time ago (and right around the same time in my cerebral development), I moved to a new town to be near my boyfriend. After several months, I found out that he had been dating someone else at the same time he was seeing me. Amazingly, his name was NOT Rob, it was Tom. Thanks for clearly stating his name in the title or I may have had to lie down with a cool cloth on my forehead believing that you and I may have actually dated the same person. Not that it would be bad…it would be fabulous because it would mean that we may somehow be related (which is something that I’ve believed for over a year but still can’t prove). I can only hope that Tom’s other girlfriend enjoyed reading all of the cards and letters that he sent to me while he was dating her as much as I enjoyed sending them to her. Sadly, I left town before she received them and it was in the days before cellular phones and the internet so I have only my VERY VIVID imagination to rely on for what her response may have been. 🙂
September 23, 2014 @ 1:02 pm
My fervent wish for all the girls that have had a “Rob”; May they also have a “Lara”!! I’m sure you were first, but this reminds me of Mystic Pizza, where the girls dumped a load of fish in the ex’s convertible!! Love your blog, you are way funny!
September 23, 2014 @ 4:01 pm
Marilyn; you just made me thinking: I MUST watch the Mystic Pizza again…. what a hoot! 🙂
September 23, 2014 @ 1:08 pm
I LOVED this post! Long story short, today I’m having an epic bad day and you just put so much smile and laugh in my day with your pictures and your amazing way to tell a story!
Merci!
September 23, 2014 @ 3:30 pm
“I kept saying— what is happening? What is happening? Lara, I cannot see what is happening!
DID HE TAKE THE UMBRELLA?”
THAT WAS EPIC!!!! Thx 4 sharing.
September 23, 2014 @ 3:34 pm
This anecdote really really infuriates me-I have come to think of myself as a sort of Granny or great great Aunt(which I actually am) to you and Paul and Miss Elvis, and the thought that this cretin took away some of the wonderful faith and trust you both must have had in Life and Human nature to embark on such a potentially perilous adventure is well– lets just say that anyone named Rob and owning a pick up truck better beware if they see a grey haired old lady clutching an umbrella and flying down the street at them cause they’re going get a thumping
September 23, 2014 @ 3:53 pm
You and Lara look smashing in these photos. Where is the link for part 1? I missed it….
September 23, 2014 @ 3:54 pm
I only wish I would have had your guts @ the time of my disappointments…. Sometimes I even wish I’d still have that courage now! The fruits of a very ‘well behaved’ upbringing probably. Excellent reading with gr8 photos! Love, love LOVE it! Thanks ….
September 23, 2014 @ 4:23 pm
I once dated a guy, who when clearly asked if he was married, replied he was divorced. After a few dates, a friend of my roommate informed me he was married and wife was now very pregnant. I chose not to ruin her life and said nothing. She’d find out soon enough what a dirtbag he was … but since I knew, he was terrified I would say something. Dirtbag was in the restaurant biz and was out on the town a lot. Everytime he saw me, he’d send over free drinks for my table … including my new (and single) boyfriend.
I wish I had a pick-up load of crap and access to his car. But all the free drinks helped.
September 23, 2014 @ 5:33 pm
BWAH HA HA HA HA HA…. paybacks are a ….. son of a gun. lol Too funny. I hate those “what do I say when I realize you have just “clowned” me and I am completely aghast with no response. You done good girl! lol
September 23, 2014 @ 6:40 pm
One year in college some girls on the floor made these Easter eggs with googly eyes and bunny ears to feel like they were home, so my amazingly hilarious roommate painted hers black and we called it the bunny-o-death. Months later when a guy I mistakenly liked didn’t realize how amazingly lucky he was treated me less than my roommate and I thought he should have and the bunny-o-death was past its ripeness prime we decided to get a little revenge. Luckily he left his second floor window open and I have really good aim so the bunny-o-death got a new home and he got a smelly room. Good times.
September 23, 2014 @ 8:50 pm
You are just flat out brilliant !!!
September 23, 2014 @ 9:09 pm
Ah yes. When I was twenty-threeeeeeeee, I wish I’d had your creativity! There was an older woman around a not-an-ex-yet at the time, and I suspected something was going on. One day I was in his apartment alone and I decided to dig through dresser drawers. Like a little archeological dig of his love life, it turned out. I found cards from his high school ex which didn’t surprise me because he still seemed hung up on her. (Why the heck was I still around? Well I was twenty-threeeeeeeee that explains all.) Then I found a Valentine’s Day card from this older woman. Now it could have just been a V-Day card from a colleague. Right? Coworkers give each other V-Day cards all the time with XO on them, right??? Maybe?? And when you get one of these lovely cards from a coworker, you keep it safe buried under stuff in your dresser drawer. That’s what we all do, right? Hmmm-hmmm. BUT. I didn’t put the card back in the drawer. I got a little dish out of the kitchen. And matches. And I tore the card up into teeny-tiny pieces and ripped right between the X and the O. And them I set them afire. And then I dumped all the ashes in the toilet. And then I flushed it. And that was the end of the card. Maybe not the end of that relationship though … I should add, this was long ago before the internet and I had written some crazy long letters when I was upset. He had kept those in the drawer too. I was mortified. I sounded like a crazy-a** case!! I really should have ripped and burned those too.