I was sleeping soundly all snug in my bed when it happened, shaking. What the hell? Was it an earthquake? Slowly, I was pulled out of my booze induced coma. As I blinked my eyes I slightly turned my head to the left. That’ when I saw it.
It was not an earthquake.
Tyler was whacking off.
That’s right, he was stroking his love handle In bed next to me. I started to giggle but did my best to contain myself. This was the most hilarious thing I had ever seen and I was curious enough to want to catch the final play.
It went on for a good 15 minutes or so. Every time he neared completion he would stop and calm himself down. I was in awe, I could not look away. Tyler was trying his best to contain his self pleasure. I know this because every once in a while he would let out a little squeak, like a rat.
Finally, his little midnight performance came to a screeching halt, Tyler climbed out of bed. He grabbed one of the cloths I used to dry my face with and mopped up his jiz with it. That mother fucker. He would pay for this.
I rolled back to my side and fell asleep.
The next morning I was up and out the door for work before Tyler was even out of bed. In the evening we met up at our apartment and headed out to happy hour. Several Margaritas later we headed back home.
As I was driving the thoughts of the night before came flashing back into my brain. I started uncontrollably laughing.
“What you laughin’ at?” he asked me suspiciously.
“I’m gonna call you whacker.”
“That’s right, Whacker.”
Tyler turned bright red, he was catching the drift. I loved this and continued to taunt him, mercilessly.
Tyler did not like this, as a matter of fact he had had enough. I know because right there, in the middle of an intersection, Tyler opened the passenger side door and got out of the car. What happened next scared the shit out of me.
After exiting the car Tyler started walking, he didn’t stop. He just walked right on across that street looking straight ahead. Cars were slamming on their breaks and skidding to avoid him. I still don’t know how he made it across the street alive.
I picked my jaw back up I continued to drive, alone, the three blocks back to our apartment. Once there, I parked and went inside. Tyler was an idiot, but I wasn’t going to let THAT ruin my night. I opened a bottle of wine and sat down at my computer desk to chat with some friends.
By the time he walked into the apartment I had pretty much forgotten all about the incident. Unfortunately, Tyler did not share my feelings. He had not forgotten, the walk did not calm him down. Instead Tyler was morbidly depressed.
He tried starting a conversation with me about how I didn’t care about him, I just ignored him. It’s not that I didn’t like the guy but the relationship was built around curing my loneliness, not true love.
“You love that computer more than me. Ever since you bought that stupid thing all you do is sit in front of it. First all your attention went to that stupid kitten you brought home and now this,” he whined.
“That’s because I don’t like you. you are boring,” I responded.
Probably that was a mean thing to say but I didn’t care. I just sipped on my wine and continued my instant messaging.
“I should just kill myself!” Tyler continued, “No one will care if I die. I’m all alone and I have nobody. I don’t even have my kids.”
“Yes, maybe you should,” I said with a bitchy grin.
Tyler stomped back into the bedroom and slammed the door. I uncorked some more wine. That’s when I heard it.
That’s right. Tyler was sitting in the chair behind me, crying. I turned around and about jumped out of my seat when I saw it.
There, on my dining room chair, Tyler was sitting completely naked. His giant rat nuts were overflowing onto the floor. In his hand a double barrel shot-gun.
I was frozen in shock not knowing how to handle this. So, I did what any fed up heartless bitch would do in my situation; I told Tyler to do it. That’s right, I dared him to pull the trigger.
“Go ahead, Tyler! Pull the trigger. You wont do it because you are a pussy. Just, if you do, don’t do it here, go outside. I don’t need your blood staining my walls.”
Tyler was shaking, his face was red. I could see his loose ball skin trembling an inch from the ground. They were bouncing up and down, like a yo-yo.
“I’m gonna kill myself! I hate myself! Nobody loves me!”
Slowly I stood up. Tyler put the gun in his mouth and his hand on the trigger. I tip-toed to the back door and silently stepped out.
I stood there for a second, in shock.
I needed a plan and fast.
After a little self calming, I ran downstairs and knocked on our neighbors door. He was a mutual friend and a pot head. It was him or the police. I figured neighbor and a joint would be the fastest and safest solution.
I waited outside for a half an hour as my neighbor went into the apartment to calm Tyler down. Comforting people I don’t like has never been a strong point for me. Stunned, I sat on the patio waiting to hear a gun explode.
Thankfully, it never came.
Tyler lived with me for another six months after that, until the restraining order. But that’s another story.