The Psycho Ex-Girlfriend Chronicles Fourteenth Entry

<--- Thirteenth Entry It was officially over, but I still didn’t have any of my stuff. A week or two later is when we finally decided on a a time convenient for both of us. We did this all through text messages between me and the 'new guy' of course. Me and the ex had no desire to talk to each other. I showed up with my 14 year old brother and my step-dad to collect my things. I had to get my waterbed, my dresser, my kitchen table, a TV, and some other stuff. I’d be damned if I let her keep any of my shit. I get there and I can feel my heart beating at an insane rate. My hands were numb and my vision was getting blurry. I was subconsciously ready to fight someone. Anyone. When the door opened, all those feelings went away. The ‘new guy’ answered my brother's knocks with a nervous smile. He was this Jon B./Maroon 5 looking ass who was actually a nice guy. It's a little hard for me to hit a nice guy. That, and the ex’s two, junior high aged brothers were there along with their mother. This startled me because in 5 years of knowing her this was the first time I’ve ever met her birth mother (she was a foster child). The ex opted to stay in the kitchen making me look like some kind of abusive monster in front of her family. That would have been the smart thing to do except that I’ve never, and would never, hit her no matter how much she she deserved it. Her brothers helped me collect my things that were already in the center of the living room ready to go. I go into the bedroom to find the waterbed taken apart already, but the mattress was still full of water. How they did that, I'll never know. I just looked at it and smiled. There was no way I was taking the bed that may or may not have been ‘tainted’ by Maroon 5-guy. I really didn’t feel a need to tell anyone this either. “Yeah, we’ll come back with a pump for this bed.” I may have been childish, but it made me happy. We loaded everything we could into my step dad’s van which left the dresser for a second trip. I went back upstairs to make sure I had everything and to say my peace. It was a short, ‘what could have been’ speech that probably made me look like this great, mythical boyfriend or just some emo bastard. Whatever. I told them I’d be back for the big stuff. When I walked downstairs to my pile of things on the curb, I found a little basket filled with every note/letter I’ve ever written to her on top of the dresser. After seeing this, I looked at my step dad and told him I was not coming back. “They can deal with the stuff on the curb (the dresser was a cheap one) and they can deal with that big bag of water in the bedroom. I refuse to come back here ever again.” The ex sent me a text the next day asking if I was coming back to collect the rest of my stuff. I responded: No, I don’t want it. Don’t ever contact me again. And she didn't. The Epilogue