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Denise - Break ups and Barfing
After Andrew whispered in my ear during family dinner at Alex and Connor’s place, again, I wasn’t all that interested in having him come in and ‘keep me very occupied’, as he hinted to Ryder earlier. He doesn’t make much of an effort with my friends at all, and it’s bothering me. I have asked that he stop whispering in my ear instead of just saying what he wants to say, but he still does it. It probably has something to do with the fact that he’s always trying to get us to leave places early, or to say something rude about one of my friends.
“Okay, goodnight,” I tell him as I get out of his vehicle. I don’t even lean in for a kiss, which gets an irritated huff from him.
“No kiss?” he asks with a sneer. “Is this about Ryder?”
What the hell? Why would that even be a question?
“No, of course not.” I lean in the door. “It has to do with you whispering in my ear, again, and insisting we leave before I was ready.”
“Your clients are… unsavoury,” he says with a look of disgust on his face. “They’re not the type of people I like to associate with, and I don’t think you should either. They’re kind of trashy.”
Well, that’s news to me. This is the first time he’s ever expressed this kind of distaste for them.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I’m barely able to keep my voice down, but I continue quietly so I don’t disturb my neighbours. “They are my friends, and they are all good people. There is nothing trashy about them.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Oh come on now, Denise. They’re musicians. They drink, they smoke, they’re all tattooed and pierced. If they weren’t wealthy, they would be the definition of trashy. Associating with them makes me look bad. If any of my accounting clients ever saw me with them, I’m sure they would drop me in a minute.”
“I never knew you were so stuck up.” I huff in disbelief. “How did you ever manage to lower your standards in order to get together with me, I wonder?”
“I didn’t lower them necessarily, but I was hoping you would change the way you dress, at least when we are together. Your parents are nice upper-class people. When they introduced us, they assured me you would eventually become more like them. I understand you dress the way you do because of your job, but you can’t honestly think old band t-shirts are the most professional item to be paired with skirts? Or that those shoes you wear are the most feminine you could choose?”
I’m completely floored. I didn’t know he hated the way I dress. I like to consider my image to be rocker-chick-meets-pin-up-girl with a little extra edge. And I love the way I look.
“My shoes? You mean the heels that I wear all the time? How are heels not feminine?”
“You know what I mean. They are very ‘rock-and-roll’ looking. Big, flashy, sometimes they even have metal bits on them. Women should be dainty. You always look like you’re daring someone to take you on.”
I stare at him, eyes wide, mouth gaping in surprise. This is not the man I thought I was involved with, not at all.
“Yeah… I’m going to go inside now. I’ll talk to you later sometime. I need some time to think all this over.” And before he can say anything, I slam the car door and run up the stairs to my door.
As I grab my keys from my purse, I hear him yelling my name from the open car window, but I refuse to turn around. Instead, I unlock the door, go inside, and lock it again right behind me. I was serious about needing time, but I’m pretty sure I’ve already made my decision. He thinks my friends are trashy, doesn’t like the type of people that I work with, hates the way I dress, and is rude to the people I care about. The only thing I need time for is packing up the few things he has at my place and thinking about how to word the break up.
I refuse to stay with someone who likes nothing about me. The last thing I need is someone trying to tell me who to spend time with and how to dress, thank you very much. My parents did enough of that when I was growing up. I’m a grown ass woman and I’m fully capable of taking care of those things my damn self. I should have known better than to agree to go out with someone my parents set me up with, I guess. Even after all these years they’re still trying to turn me into debutante barbie.
Once inside the house, I get changed into some comfy joggers and a loose tank, ready to get to work packing up Andrew’s stuff. I have no patience for a man who has been with me for almost a year, hoping that I would change myself the entire time.
I’m nobody’s renovation project.
Andrew has very few belongings here and before long there is one small box of stuff all packed up for him. I’ll call him tomorrow to come over so I can break it off with him and he can take his stuff when he goes. No sense in prolonging the inevitable.
I’m starving since I didn’t get to eat much at Connor and Alex’s place. My fork tasted like it had soap or something on it, so I barely ate three whole bites before Andrew wanted to leave. I fix myself a cup of tea, grab a snack, and get settled in to watch something on TV. After far too long scrolling through my choices on Netflix, I settle onThe Dirt. Nothing like a little Mötley Crüe debauchery to remind me how good I have it with my boys.
Sleeping Dogs went through a bit of a hard partying phase in the first few years, but it was never that bad. The worst thing I can remember is walking in on Ryder fucking a groupie in the women’s bathroom at Rough Mix, in the very early days. That was one of the first few times I’d ever booked them there. And it was a blessing in disguise, seeing Ryder bending that girl over the sink. Up to that point, I had more than a little crush on him.
It took longer than I’d like to admit getting over that heartbreak. Andrew was the first actual boyfriend I had since I’d realized that Ryder would never settle down, and if he ever did, it definitely wouldn’t be with me. I spent almost fifteen years throwing myself into my work, making Sleeping Dogs the sensation they are today, and trying to deny that I had feelings for Ryder. Obviously I’m not the one responsible for their talent, but I got them in front of the right people and booked them into the right venues. That counts for something.
Fifteen years turning myself into the person I am now, a person who I love everything about, and the first guy I take a chance on doesn’t even like me, apparently. I’m not normally one of those people that says fuck my life, but… fuck my life.
I stay up and watchThe Dirtfor a little before deciding to just turn in for the night. I’ll need a good night’s sleep to deal with Andrew tomorrow and I haven’t been feeling well for the last little while. Probably just from working too hard. I usually wind up sick at the end of a tour and this illness feels like it’s been coming since then. I’m not looking forward to the conversation with Andrew, but I refuse to stay with someone whose feelings for me depend on me changing who I am and how I dress.
* * *
When I wake up in my bed, it feels like only a few minutes later, but a glance at my phone tells me it’s already after 9:00 am. I slept for over ten hours, but I feel like I haven’t slept at all. Guess I’m getting sick after all.
