Tomorrow, I’ll focus on what comes next.
Brick
Clunk.
I hurl my brand new cell phone across the bedroom and it lands dead center inside of the waste bin in the corner. I shouldn’t have looked online, but I couldn’t help it. Every social media site worth reading (and a few that aren’t) is featuring stories about how much of an asshole I am, because I abused, then dumped, the sweetest girl on the planet.
Abused?
What in the actual fuck are they talking about?
There’s even a video being circulated of poor, innocent Lisa sitting among several empty bottles of Pinot Grigio while crying the night away about what a horrible human being I am. A video which seems to have originated from Lisa’s personal Instagram.
Sure, I get it, she’s mad; but to publicly and purposely attack my character like this? I assumed we left things on a civilized note yesterday. Clearly I was wrong. In fact, this very public reaction of hers is baffling to me. The way I remember it, all she really cared about was if I was going to make an appearance on her stupid cooking show. So how is it in a matter of hours, I’ve now become enemy number one on every woman’s hit list?
I suppose dumping the culinary world’s youngest influencer is tantamount to clubbing a baby seal these days, because the comments under this video are downright brutal and they remind me of another dark time in my past.
Everyone knows that Brick beats up women. Remember that incident in college? He was definitely guilty. The school probably paid that girl off.
He’s not even that good of a player, and they pay him millions of dollars? Why are we even talking about this loser? Lisa should have never broken up with the funny guy from that HBO show.
As if he can find anyone better than Lisa Adams. That girl is hot, rich AND she can cook? He’s stupid. I’d marry her sweet ass tomorrow and I don’t even like girls.
As I use my thumb to scroll down the social media site, I can see that there are oodles more comments just like these, but before I can go further down a very toxic rabbit hole, I decide to call my accuser and get an explanation for everything I’m seeing online.
“Hello?”
“Lisa, did you post that video?”
“I sure did.”
I almost choke on my spit at the coolness of her response. I’ve never heard her use this tone of voice before.
“I thought we left the cafe on a friendly note.”
“What’s friendly about being dumped by some second-rate football player?”
That’s when it finally clicks.
I should have listened to my gut when it told me not to get too serious with this woman and I didn’t listen. I was trying to force something which was never there. Lisa is not who I thought she was. In fact, she’s a real bitch.
“Second rate, huh?”
“You had the perfect situation, Brick. I don’t think you understand who I am. You would have become a much more relevant player if you’d just understood the assignment.”
“Let’s be clear, Lisa. You’re not out here curing cancer. In fact, you’re fooling their asses. You cook keto on television and eat macaroni and cheese in private. Take the video down,” I tell her, pissed at her second-rate comment. Who the hell does she think she is?
“That video is my truth and I will not take it down,” she says in a snotty voice.
“You were drunk and alluded to some sort of abuse when you know that is the farthest thing from the truth. Take it down!”
“People interpret things the way they want to,” she says casually. “I have nothing to do with what people think of you.”
“I could sue you for defamation of character, you heartless bitch!” I say, pissed.
I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. She knows everything I went through in college. The baseless allegations made against me back then still cast a heavy shadow on my career because no matter what I do, some people will always believe that where there’s smoke, there’s fire.
“I’m hanging up now, Brick. I think I feel threatened.”
