I went out with my friend Cak last night. Every time we hang out, she's pretty much a drag, but I can't help but like the girl. She's a cool chick underneath all of the drama.
All of the drama.
Cak's in a shitty long-distance relationship with a guy in Houston. He's 40, she's 25. He parties, she doesn't. He lives with an NFL player, she lives alone. Oh yeah... he also cheated on her a year ago. Being a reformed cheater myself, I imagine he still is. Nevertheless, Cak eventually took him back after he groveled, shamelessly, for 6 months. Needless to say, she's still not over it. She just can't seem to trust the bastard. Could you?
She does that chick rationalization thing whereby she analyzes everything he has said/done for the past week or month or other time period. It goes something like this: "I know the only reason he's not calling me is because he was busy this week because when I go down there he's busy. I've seen how busy he is, so I'm sure that's why he's not calling. He's a really busy guy. That's why he's not calling. Yeah. Busy."
Cak never goes out.
She got decked-out last night; her bra sticking out of her shirt, her jeans glued to her legs, and boots up to her knees. She looked hot. She thought so too, so she had me take a picture of her so she could send it to her man's cellphone. Maybe as a threat.
Cak is a one-drink max kind of lady.
Her first and last drink of the night occurred at 10:30.
I like to get shitfaced.
I don't stop until I'm sleeping.
She checks her phone (and his) constantly.
I spent the majority of the evening building up her confidence; telling her that if she's going to stay with him she's gotta drop the jealousy shit. I personally couldn't take a guy back if he cheated because I'd always be paranoid, kind of how she is...
You can see where this night was heading, and did head. We left the club at about 2 a.m. I must admit some fault however. My friend promotes there, which means I don't pay for drinks. Ever. We arrived too early and he arrived too late. The product of which was me buying a drink for myself. Can you even bare the thought? I was pissed. I'm not being serious (but, I kind of am). My thinking is that I wouldn't be at the club if it weren't for my promoter friend being there, so I shouldn't be paying for any drinks. The situation put me in a bad mood.
So, yeah, we left. I ended up spending the night at Cak's place near Times Square. When we got back, Cak got on her computer to check her boyfriend's Cingular bill. For some reason she's got his password and with it, she traces every single call he places and receives. Somehow she also knows who every phone number on his log belongs to. I have to give credit where credit's due: she's a master of her pitiable craft. She repeated this whole process when she woke up in the morning as well.
You've got to stop this.
I told her that everyone has, at one point or another, been in a similar hell. Maybe not as intense, but a hell just the same. I think I got out of mine when it was in the early stages, before it had time to consume me like so. Living in her reality for even 10-hours invoked a kind of nostalgia I could've definitely lived without.
Cak is taking baby steps.
Evidently after I left this morning she called one of her friends and had her change the password to her boyfriend's online phone log. Now she won't be able to check it even if she wants to. She'll want to. This was a good move, one that will actually save me some stress too. After all, I didn't really have a good reason as to why he was calling other chicks at 4 in the morning. Evidently Cak did though: "I know the only reason he's calling her is because he works with her. When I go down there, he calls people he works with around the clock. I've seen him do it, so I'm sure that's why he's calling her. He's a really busy guy. That's why he's calling her. It was business. Yeah. Business."