Emasculated

First of all, it is possible to have a strong emotional attachment to an inanimate object. It's not weird or foolish or materialistic. Sometimes something will just have an effect on a person. Not love, as love is only felt between people. But there is emotion of some sort involved. That said...

If ever there was a shit week, this was it. Just when you think things can't possibly suck anymore than they already do, life grabs you by the balls and not only squeezes them as hard as it can but gives 'em a little twist for good measure.

So as you most likely read in my previous post, i had my first date last week. It was the greatest day of my life. That came to a rather odd conclusion when the guy who was seemingly into me as much as i was into him stopped calling/texting/im'ing/emailing and stopped responding to all such forms of communication. WTF?! OK, he changed his mind and flaked out on me. Whatever, at least i was happy for a brief moment.

So, i mentioned a little about another guy i had been talking to via text for a couple of weeks. We met on a dating site, and he actually gave me his number and said lets talk/text. Cool! A seemingly great guy, good job, stable, great sense of humor, likes a lot of the same music/movies i do. This could turn out well. So, on Tuesday morning really early, we were texting and an opportunity arose to see if he was interested in going out on a date. Now, i had been trying to keep my excitement in check all the while i was talking to him because as life has taught me, if you get excited, whatever you are getting excited about will be snatched away from you. Fatal mistake: i let myself get a little bit excited about him. So what happens when i ask him if he'd be interested in going out you ask? And i quote "Well, to be 100% honest, there's a boy back in the city i've been trying to get together with all summer and haven't been able to because of my travel schedule and his travel schedule". Oh, wonderful, well good for you, i said as my soul was deflated once more.

That brings us to yesterday, Friday August 28, 2009. I slept for shit once again, but forced myself out of bed on time. I had a little breakfast, checked my email, took a shower and left for work around 12:45 pm, actually on time for a change! Cool! I'll have time to go out of my way a bit and swing by my favorite coffee stand instead of getting crap coffee and shit service from the Starbucks that's right on my way to work. Seemed like a nice little treat to help the day move along. So much for that fucking plan...

As i'm driving along minding my own business, i see brake lights ahead and a long line of cars waiting behind a traffic light. WTF?! This is odd, not usually this much traffic. Oh, i see...there's a state trooper on the shoulder with his lights on. Stupid fucking people are looking at the shiny object on the side of the road. So, i stop my car and am wondering why things still aren't moving now that the traffic light is green and the trooper is behind us. I take a glance in my rear view mirror just in time to see a massive white object bearing down on me. I had enough time to think "fuck, that's going awfully fuckin fast" and utter the first sixteenth of a syllable of "oh shit" as the fucking drooler piloting the giant sport utility vehicle slams into the back of my car going close to 40 mph. The force of the impact slams me back into my seat, and i rebound forward into the seat belt and back into the seat again a couple of times, and pushes my car into the car in front of me, and that car into the one in front of him, and that car into the one in front of him. Now i'm fucking PISSED. Once i get my bearings, i get out of my car and scream at the the dizzy bitch sitting in her now deployed airbag at the top of my lungs "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY CAR YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT!!!!!". Her reply, "i didn't mean to"... Well, fuck you. Fuck you very much. It's about this time that the statie asks me to return to whats left of my vehicle.

I spend the next 45 minutes filling out incident reports, arranging for a ride home, calling work to tell them i won't be coming in today, and contemplating the complete cluster fuck that is my life. So, it's not enough that i was closeted for 2o years, that i live a lonely and unhappy existence, that i can't get a date, and when i do the guy never wants to see me again, or that i get a ray of hope in the form of a guy who gave me his number to call and text him and hopefully date and then have my hopes crushed when he tells me there's no chance for a date. Nope, that's not enough. I know, take his car! He loves that car...that'll push him over the edge if you take his car. Fuck you.

So here's the deal. The car is pretty well fucked. If it's not a total loss, it's damn close. The only body panels that are untouched are the doors. The hood, both front quarter panels and front bumper and grill? Check. Roof panel? Check. Rear quarter panels, trunk lid, and bumper? Check, check and check. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKING FUCK!!!!! The tow truck driver asked if i had the tow ring that screws into the front bumper and i'm like it's in the trunk tool kit under the spare. He goes to look and says, "have you looked in the trunk?" "No", i say, "why?". "Just come have a look." So, the trunk had to be pried open, and the spare tire well was squished as such to trap the spare tire and make getting at the tool kit under it impossible. Cargo tie downs that are attached to the frame are maybe eight inches forward of their original positions and about six inches lower. There is major rear frame damage and god know whats hidden away lurking in dark corners.

So, if the insureance assholes say "yeah, it's repairable" i'm fucked. Then i'll be stuck with a car that will never be the same again. It'll be full of odd rattles and squeaks and odd smells and will drive funny and will have goofy electrical problems for the rest of its days. The fucking factory puts those cars together in a certain order for a fucking reason, everything needs to fit correctly. Once its smashed to bits and put together again Frankenstein style, nothing is the way it was, i don't give a good goddamn how great the repair shop is. The car will have recorded damage history and will make resale value turn to dog shit. No one wants to buy a car that's been near totaled and patched together again. So i'm stuck with it...a rattle trap that i couldn't sell in exchange for fly shit AND a huge ass monthly payment for the next 5 and a half years.

Now, if by chance it's totaled out, i'm equally fucked but in a slightly different way. Then the insurance will cut me a check for market value of the car, not replacement value. That means, i will get a check that probably won't cover the loan balance. No worries tho, i've got gap protection. But there's still the matter of the ginormous cash down payment i made on the car to cover shit like extended warranties, gap coverage, sales tax, the loss i took on my trade in, etc. What about that loss? Tough shit. So basically, i am fucked raw, dry and hard either way it goes. One way or another, some stupid, inattentive cunt has caused me grief and cost me money. And what does she lose? Maybe $500 for her insurance deductible? A ticket for inattentive driving? What a crock of shit.

And before anyone says "It's just a car. Don't stress about it". NO. It's NOT just a fucking car. That car was the representation of a lifetime of hard work, a symbol of what i've achieved. Plus, it made me look good, got heaps of looks from cute boys. Most importantly, it made me happy. I was happy driving it, happy looking at it, made the days when i really didn't want to go to work seem worth while. I don't normally wish bad things upon people, but i've been sending out some especially hateful vibes in the direction of the dingbat who was too busy doing something OTHER than paying attention to the road while driving.



^ My baby, barely a week old.