Princess MoMo

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Mr. Redcoat’s Rendition Annotated with Princess MoMo’s Comments

Mr. Redcoat: The Reunion – Part I

I was apprehensive.  Though being in his arms felt good, I knew I was dealing with a shapeshifter.  What was a MoMo to do?  Enjoy the moment or run for the hills knowing that at any moment, the comforting arms would transform into barbed wire?  I stayed.  Several times, he asked, “What are we doing? Are we dating again?  Are we playing it by ear?”  I didn’t know how to answer.  My reticence was telling.

Eventually, I made my way back home.  I still had a questioning feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I didn’t trust this Redcoat.  We talked every night that week, but I couldn’t grasp onto a sense of security or comfort.  In fact, during several of these conversations, I was left scratching my pretty, raven-haired covered head wondering what the hell I was doing talking to him.  Indeed, on one of the calls, I resorted to hanging up on him because despite my request that he dial back his douchery, he couldn’t contain his brash impertinence.

We made plans to see one another that weekend.  The uncertainty of our circumstance made it such that I wasn’t excited to see him.  It’s like sticking your hand into an opaque bag knowing that there’s a 50/50 chance that either there’s a vicious, starving alligator in there or a cuddly, baby bunny.

It was a bust.  His insolence was unbearable and I had little desire to tolerate it.  Here are just two examples.

Example 1: He asked if I would move elsewhere in the US.  I responded that I would if it were a reasonable place and I got a good job there.  He then asked if I’d move out of the country.  I said no.  He replied, “You’re so ignorant.”  At that moment, I wanted to wrap my pretty, little manicured fingers around his throat.

Example 2: He asked my opinion on a name for a website he was creating.  I told him it was ok.  Shortly thereafter, I saw the domain name and I commented that people (being that they’re mostly stupid as fuck) probably wouldn’t know how to spell it.  He lashed out saying, “Oh yeah, and what the fuck is a MoMo?” Look, it would be one thing if I were offering unsolicited commentary, but don’t ask me for my fucking opinion and then throw a temper tantrum when I give it to you in a constructive, non-insulting, honest way.

I left there annoyed that I had wasted my time AGAIN with this vile human being.

I didn’t respond to several of his texts because I felt zero desire to do so.  A few days later, my irritation subsided and we communicated on some level.  That weekend, again we had loose plans to meet.  (Notably, a week later, he was leaving the country for two weeks.) I was going to the city.  So, the level of effort he had to put into this meeting was maybe 2%.  Friday night, when I was already in the city, he texted asking if he could take a raincheck.  I am not C-V-fucking-S.  In other words, I do not issue rainchecks.  Clearly, he didn’t want to see me.  It required virtually no effort on his part, he hadn’t seen me in a week, and he knew he wasn’t going to have the opportunity to see me again for weeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to entertain my presence at his doorstep.  Fine.  My response, “Ok. Have a nice life.”  He replied, “Wtf what? Crazy.”  No, not crazy.  Perfectly reasonable.

This behavior of his is exactly what put me off the first go around.  He treats me like a yo-yo.  Flings me afar and then draws me back in only to fling me afar again.

So, I can with unabashed assuredness irrevocably assert: fuck him. We’re done.

THE END.

Epilogue:

Two entire months went by.  No contact between us.  Then, one fateful Tuesday evening (May 3), I was sitting on the train heading home from work with my mobile device in hand.  A call was coming through.  Who was it?  Yes, Mr. Redcoat.  What the fuck did he want?  I answered, “Hello.”

He said, “Hey.”  I replied, “Hey.” He asked, “Do you know who this is?”  Yeah, motherfucker, it’s 2016; I have caller ID and I don’t delete contacts in my phone so that I have the option to ignore people should I so desire.

I asked what he wanted.  He said he was sitting on the subway, he thought of me and smiled, and so he decided to give me a call.  How cute.  And, by cute, I mean I threw up a little bit in my pretty, little oral kingdom.  Anyway, we shot the shit for a little bit.  He regaled me with tales of his dating woes.  I was on my way to see my then-current specimen (things were fizzling out with him too).  I told Mr. Redcoat about his successor and how things were not going well.  He said he was happy to hear that.  I asked why.  He said because he was a little jealous and didn’t want me to be happy with another guy.

Now, I guess Mr. Redcoat and I are friends.  The end.