Thursday, May 12, 2005

Good times, bad times

We met in Houston. In the ensuing whirlwind romance, it took me only hours to convince her to come back with me to California.

We were together nearly every day, truly inseparable. I knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get me there. I could always turn her on - she never had a headache, never said No.

She got tattoos for me. She had a beautiful Steal Your Face on her back, and an amusing scribble on her butt.

Over time, though, we drifted apart. I think she always knew that I cheated on her, but she never said anything. She was always ready for me. She was my Giving Tree, and like the boy in that sad tale I used her up without a thought. I would even hit her, sometimes. Once I kicked her. It was never her fault, and we both knew that, but she took my blows and continued to offer anything that I could ask of her.

Once, when I was at work, she was violated. I didn't find out unitl hours later. Her already homely looks were made grotesque. Despite my anger, there was nothing that I could do to help. She bore this indignity as well, and continued to give. But she never listened to music again.

One time I tried to see if she would still like the songs we used to sing together while driving. I bought her a new tape deck and turned it on. She screamed, once, and has since remained completely mute.

Days before I washed my hands of her forever, she was hit by a car. It was not fatal, but I still think it was cruel of me to leave her in such a state. I understand that a charity organization took her in, and gave her a new lease on life.

She always loved me, and in my melancholy I will admit that I loved her, too.

I miss you Festiva.

8 Comments:

At 5/12/2005 08:59:00 PM , Blogger Yawn said...

I'm thinking about lying to the methadone program so I can score, even though I've never been addicted to heroin. I'm also thinking dooooood, vatooooo, hoooooolmes. You shouldn't treat a car like that. I treat mine like somebody else's kidney in a 6-pack cooler that I'm taking over to somebody's house. Meaning my grandmother's house. Meaning I have no medical training but I can turn knobs that keep things cool. Like giving immigrant women copies of The Giving Tree and reading it to them to help them with their English and tug on their heart strings for some panocha. Sort of like that. Well, you know what mixing gin with cheap beer does to a strapping young/old/middle aged lad like myself.

 
At 5/12/2005 10:51:00 PM , Blogger MelTheFruitFly said...

I was so ready to be indignant at your treatment of "her". Damn you KOM! Damn you for making me question my opinion of you, if only for a moment.

I felt that way about my step-dad's old car, that was mine on the weekends. It was a Pinto. A horrible, ugly, horridly blue, deathtrap of a piece of crap car, but I loved it dearly.

Until I got my Bug anyway. Then I dropped it so fast.

 
At 5/13/2005 04:43:00 AM , Blogger Jerk Of All Trades 2.0 said...

(crying)
That.......that......that was....(SOB)....it....(sniff).....I had someone special like that once......she's gone now.....Beautiful man, beautiful.
(Honk!)

 
At 5/13/2005 10:24:00 AM , Blogger KOM said...

Yawn - Wow.

FF - I've done my job if only one person was surprised by the "punchline". Hmm, maybe that's not the right word. Abuse isn't funny, right?

J - Thanks. You never truly get over your first car.

 
At 5/13/2005 11:28:00 AM , Blogger ~Jan said...

Funny and creative! You really need to be published somewhere.

 
At 5/13/2005 05:12:00 PM , Blogger Squishi said...

As much as she was a trashy model, no girl deserves to be treated so harshly and dumped like that so cruelly. You beast of a man!

%;D

ps: I don't miss my first poo brown Mitsubishi [Chrysler] Colt at all! "Neville" fell to pieces bit by bit. I couldn't cope with his inability to get it up in the morning, so I sent him to the old car's home and I got a much more flirtatious companion who is hot to go at any time. However the fact that she's a girl makes me feel a little weird right now...

 
At 5/18/2005 02:12:00 PM , Blogger Lisa said...

now THAT was good!

 
At 5/19/2005 01:49:00 PM , Blogger SassyAssy said...

And I thought romance was dead. You had me ready to do some Charlie's Angels kick-butt on you.

My first was a big green diesel station wagon...nothing like being 16 and trying to act cool driving that around.

 

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