Friday, April 11, 2008

You have Re-emerged, Quiet Man.

I have been exhausted to the point of mental collapse lately, meaning I have had so much to do along with the accompanying stress, that I tend to shut down and am incapable of doing nothing.

Yesterday, we had an examination of witnesses concerning my mother’s estate. It was a free for all and emotionally exhausting. If I could have stabbed one of the attorneys in his black, disgusting, filthy heart, I would have, dozens of times. It is this type of person that I would not save from the clutches of Hilter and to tell you the truth, I wished it was 1942 not 2008.

So, for since at least February, I have been running the hamster wheel type of existence. Moving a mile a minute, yet getting nowhere.

I have almost become a recluse only visiting my brother, his wife and my beautiful nephew week in and week out.

Now, I should be working on my taxes, but I can’t, though I am furiously working to get them filed on time. Anal that I am, I insist on doing it all myself and I am bleary eyed late into the night if I am not stressed out and unable to fall asleep until well past 1 am.

Why am I complaining you ask?

Well, since early February, some of you may have noticed that I have not written much, much less mentioned Quiet Man.

Since about the first week of February, I have not seen nor heard from him. In fact, I was so busy with my own things, I barely noticed or missed him.

During the examination yesterday I forgot to shut off my cell phone. In order to stop it from ringing I answered it and just said, “I am in the middle of an exam right now I cannot talk,” without looking at who called.

It was Quiet Man. After two months. What the hell.

So, it was about 12:30 pm when he called. I returned the call at about say 8:45 pm. He did not answer.

In addition to having been up since about 6 am the night before only having slept a few hours, and when I returned his call, I had not even been home all day, not eaten a thing, and only had two coffees to keep me going, I was feeling the exhaustion return in droves. I had arrived where my car was parked for the day and discovered after being dropped off that I did not have my car keys nor my house keys which were with the car keys.

I called a friend with whom I was with earlier who lives about 30 minutes away, and they had my keys, damned them, but it really was my fault for when I was with them earlier in the evening, I let my keys fall out of my bag, which I should learn to close regularly.

So having arranged for a ride to get my keys, Quiet Man rings me at about 9:45 pm. I was chatting with my other brother’s girlfriend at the time.

I see his initial on the caller ID. I have never put his name in the phone, just his first initial.

I sighed heavily while answering the phone, “Ah, hello?”

“Allo Muse,” the familiar voice flowed.

“Yes, Quiet Man, hello?”

I was not going to carry this conversation, for he paused as if I was to jump in there bestowing upon him an adulation for not hearing his voice in two months.

There was deadness.

“Ah, Muse, hello. How are you?”

“Are you there Quiet Man?” I said as if I did not hear him.

“How have you been?”

“Fine and you?” I decided to reply.

“I am well.”

“You are? Well I heard that a friend of yours committed suicide; Ricky told me when I wanted to confirm what Dane told me.”


“Yes, he called me about a couple of weeks ago about something.”

I had not heard from Dane since I last went out with him. He is quite a character. I waited to call him back for about a week and a half. He did not notice.

I told him I was going to call him but when I found out it was not a family member, per Ricky, I was not going to call him.

It sounded like he was in a crowded bar, but what was I thinking? The likelihood was that this man was in a strip club.

I had a hard time hearing him and I was at a point in the road where the cell would go dead. So I told him this and the phone went out.

But not before I told him “I hate your guts!” And after a pause I laughed. He had just asked me something to which that was a reply in the opposite: he was wondering why he did not hear from me in so long, he suggested that his thought was that I was mad at him.

So I arrive home and called him. No answer so I paged him instead of leaving a message. After a while, I called him again. No answer. I did not leave a message.

That night, I forced myself to fall asleep at about 2 am. I was exhausted but unable to sleep.

Awaking still very tired and it showing on my face, I rang a few people, deciding to not rush into work this morning. Speaking with a friend, we tell each other our woes in a conversation that lasted about an hour. Then my phone rang.


“Who is this?” I did not recognize his voice, then realized it was him.

“You caught me at home, Quiet Man,” I told him. I briefly filled him in on my reason for still being home at about 10 am.

So he pussy foots around since I remained obviously guarded with him, surprised he called after I told him I hated his guts.

Finally, he says what is on his mind.

“I no talk to you in two months, Muse.”

“So you have been keeping track Quite Man?”

“Yes. It is almost to the day.”

“Good for you.”

He continues on, unsure of why I admonish him and still speak to him. I am also thinking the same thing, and hating I am not hanging up on him.

I had truly not thought of him, not had time. And it was a good thing not having to have the temptation. I was grinding away in my mind why did he have to call me? I was in a routine in my life without him, now he is disrupting me.

I did not realize that when I spoke with Dane and then Ricky that they probably told Quiet Man. I was so busy with me, that it had not crossed my mind that he may call.

“Yes, Muse, yes,” he said, when the topic of the last time we met approached, by his own words.

“Well, Quiet Man, I was going to go to that party, but decided to not go. I was busy.”

“Yes, I talk to so and so about some problem Fred has, you know problem.”

“Yep. And what is wrong with Fred?”

Quiet Man paused. He knew what I meant.

“Yes, when I asked you to go with us to the party, I talk to Fred. I want Muse to go, I tell him.”

“You know Quiet Man, I don’t care. I was asked to go with someone else, as I told you, but I did not go.”

His speech was becoming more labored and rapid. I was becoming more judgmental.

“I want you go, Muse. But Fred no want Marsha to cause problem. He say that, Muse. That is reason.”

This was becoming such an odd conversation all because Quiet Man needed some soul cleansing, or he missed me or his ego was deflated since he believed I have ignored him, but not purposefully only because I was not thinking about doing anything at all.

“You know Quiet Man, I don’t believe you and it is not because I care about what you just said or about not hearing from you since then. Do you understand that?”

“Muse, Marsha has problem with you; she very jealous of you.”

“Well, I seem to distinctly remember you professing that Marsha was not jealous of me; she was only worried about what kind of career that I have because it threatened her, or so you said, and, as I distinctly remember the fan fare you made out of that on that day in Fred’s office.”

He did not say anything.

“Or, is it something else? Or was that lie?”

“No lie, Muse.”

So we continued on; he told me the story about his friend who hung himself; how he had been with him the day he killed himself. Quiet Man was visiting his family in Europe. His friend had spent and hour and a half with him the day he died the same day Quiet Man flew home. He then had to go back for the funeral.

“So, you saw your mother?”

“Yes, Muse,” and he went into a semi detailed account of his trip. He went by himself.

“Muse, you know I was going to Europe,” he threw in as an excuse as to why he was not around for fifteen days of the last two months.

“What?” I asked him. I was just listening to him and he throws in these gratuitous remarks. He must have imagined I was complaining where was he all this time. I never said a word.

In fact, he was supposed to go to Europe in January. But I did not remind him of that. In fact, he must believe I keep his itinerary. I do not. In fact, he must believe I was wondering where he was and missed him. I did not. So odd was it for me to listen to him chide me for knowing he was going. The best remedy is to completely ignore him, which I did. He got the hint.

So he brings up the man with the flat feet. He had made ridiculous predictions about me ending up with this person. I am not attracted to him at all. But, I relayed to him a story about how I thought of what he said, telling him he better not run with the story. He did.

“Muse, I predict and you will see.””

“Predict all you want. It won’t happen.”

I think he does this because he is jealous of the man with the flat feet, but why he thinks I am interested in him is beyond me. To egg him on, I tell him a few choice stories involving the man with the flat feet and how I was glad I did not see him nor Fred at the house parties in the last two months. It would bother him, that is why I said it.

I was going to inform him about Wimpy, but he would not see the humor in it, he would go and find out who he was. I don’t even know him, Wimpy.

“So what you hear about man with flat feet Muse?”

“Plenty. What have you heard?”


“So tell me.”

“No, you tell me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Ok, Muse I tell you.”

His news: Flat foot packed up and left the bobble head and is living with his parents.

OMG!!!!!!! I did not hear that, so he had me hooked, and filled me in. So I told him now I understood why his mother called me on Easter to go somewhere with her and him. I was wondering why bobble head was not going with them.

“See Muse, I tell you truth not too long ago.”

“Oh, stop patting yourself on the back. I have to call his mother.”

So we fill each other in on other gossip we know. And we laugh. He then tells me news he thinks I want to hear and believes that I would believe he accomplished some coup for me. He did not, I know it and tell him so.

Despite the sharp responses, he continues on to speak with me, confused by my intermittent laughter and joking.

“Muse, I need to tell you something. You will be happy about news.”

“Really? Well tell me.”

He stammers and pauses.

“So, what is the problem you can’t tell me?”

He trips over his words and I don’t catch on right away.

“Oh, you mean you have to tell me in person?”


“It figures. Okay,” I told him.

The conversation lasted about two hours. Believe it, it was that long.

So since my day was pretty much shot and I did not leave the house until well past 1:30 pm, I arrived at my office thinking I will RUSH through everything and call him to have coffee and find out what the hell he could not tell me on the phone.

It was a warm day today so I dressed casually. I wore my BCCBG sweat slacks with elaborate embroidery down the calf portion of the pant leg. I put on only mascara on my top lids and a glittery pink Dior lipstick.

I turned back towards my bedroom to splash on some perfume.

I am retarded. I was secretly, from myself, eager to see him. I was hating I felt that way and was too weak to not be pulled towards him.

I come back out of my office primped and freshly lipstick-ed.

I ring him.

“Are you busy?” I said laughingly.

“Ah, yes Muse.”

“For how long?”

“An hour?”

“Too long,” I said and hung up.

So it dwelled on me as I continued to waste away my day by not working.

Two hours later I rang him. No answer.

I went back to the office and put out a load of work trying to make up for taking a mental health break.

At about 6 pm I called him again. He answered.

“You are still busy?”

“I am occupied, yes, Muse. But I will call you.”

“What?” I barked.

“I will call you. Later, Muse, I call, Ok?”


So as I sit here tonight, I am wondering how in the span of a couple of hours, I had become putty in his hands?

Tomorrow is another day and the putty may well just harden.


Fat Cat said...

Good for you! It used to break my heart to read this blog and know what a hold Quiet Man had on you. Keep going. Think of yourself as that putty that will harden so he will no longer have any effect upon you at all. You will break free. I'm pulling for you!

Fat Cat

Glamourpuss said...

Having been in the same position with a man, I empathise. But I have no idea how some of them can do that to us...


Gucci Muse said...

Fat Cat, I guess right now I am too tired about everything. Sadly, the hold is still there, but I am just not dealing with it-it is hard to eradicate the attraction. Apparently it is something he still harbors.

Puss, I don't know how men can be married and carry on the way they do with other women-it is so odd to me and part of the remorse I feel not knowing when I met him he was married and having feelings for him thereafter.

But, I think regardless, since the attraction is still there, even if buried, that is the possible danger for trouble and heartache.

Men do it because society permits it, which is the sad part, and women permit it as well. There are not any real consequences, because it is so prevalent.