Mr. Codderman's Children
I thought his ex was a dumb bitch for letting him go. Number three thought we were both fucking stupid for kicking his sorry ass to the curb. Now we're all wondering what came over us.
Mr. Codderman* will tell you himself, as he has often told me and others, about his children; while he considers nearly every decent human being in the world to be family, he biologically has only two children: "one Girl and one Idiot."
Mr. Codderman's Girl is a sweetheart, large and soft and childish, though she's older than I am. She'd had a boyfriend who was a good man. Patient, respectful of her wish to "wait until marriage," sweet, faithful, etc. She was with him for two and a half years and then let him go. Why? Who knows? Perhaps after two and a half years she realized she wasn't ready for a grown-up relationship? Mr. Codderman nearly cried to see him go. He was like a son; the Idiot preemptively called him "brother." But these things happen.
The Idiot was a smoothtalking, dreadlocked, salesman. He managed to finagle three otherwise intelligent young ladies into falling in love with him. I was the middle one. I thought his ex was a dumb bitch for letting him go. Number three thought we were both fucking stupid for kicking his sorry ass to the curb. Now we're all wondering what came over us.
The Idiot was livid when I finally left. I was, fortunately for him, and unfortunately for me, a doting and devoting girlfriend who did whatever was possible (outside of selling my soul) to please him. He told his myriad of acquantances (including girlfriend number three) what a horrible human being I was. I bypassed the crowd and explained my actions to Mr. Codderman. He understood.
"My son is a jerk," he said.
Come to think of it, what i did was wrong by some people's standards.
The truth is that if better hadn't come along, I might never have left the Idiot. (I can admit now that in those years i was a bit of an emotional pushover.) Furthermore, it sneaked up on me. I'm the antithesis of a cheater. "Excuse me, miss, can you tell me the time?" "Sorry, I have a boyfriend." I can even claim that it wasn't entirely my fault. The Idiot made a fatal mistake. No, the mistake was not being a generally horrid boyfriend. Nor was it being inconsiderate, or being selfish, or emotionally distant, though he was all of these. The mistake was intruducing me to someone patient, respectful, sweet, and faithful. Who bizarrely enough was also attracted to me. Bad. Move.
We were only friends. Or something. Mr. Codderman's adopted son and I, I mean. He had a girlfriend (not Mr. Codderman's daughter, though; she was done with him) and I had an Idiot. He invited me out to the movies. He drove. (Strike one . . . the Idiot was not allowed near the family car.) I don't know what made me go, considering that i'm not a fan of the movies. Or chocolate ice cream, which he bought me while at the movies. He picked up the tab of course. (Strike two . . . I paid for everything for the Idiot.) I should have known better than to let him take me home, but he had a car and I had a metrocard. If he had tried to take advantage of me, I might have picked up a weapon. Instead, he pulled out some tools and fixed my keyboard bench. (Strike three . . . the Idiot had broken it.) He didn't even kiss me good night, but gave me the most sanity-violating hug I had ever recieved. (Yes, I gave him a strike four . . . the Idiot was always sexual and never emotional.)
He didn't believe me when I told him that it was over. He didn't believe me when he came over that first time, and I told him that since we had broken up, I had already gone on four casual dates with three different men. (Truth is I was lying: it was two dates with one man.) He didn't believe me when I told him that the next time he came over uninvited he might just find me in bed with another man.
Self fulfilling prophecies are a bitch, aren't they? But it's cool, because Mr. Codderman gave me his blessing.
We've been together for two and a half years now. I'm not letting him go.