Aya

I have a serious offer for the apartment.  Things are happening pretty fast and I’m keeping all digits crossed.

Wish me luck!

On the eve of red roses and love day, nestled in the remaining 364 days of drudgery and familiarity, I am tempted to reminisce about my own love.  After 3 years, it ended without ugliness.  We exchange e-mails of concern and I somehow received a call from the hospital when he broke his leg. 

But I will resist the temptation.

Instead, I would like to comment a little on a few cousins, old friends, and the odd friend of an old cousin who think that I know anything about love and marriage.  Me.  The failed heterosexual.

Cousin 1: Aya, she’s fighting with me because she says I don’t talk to her?  What do I do?

Old friend:  Aya, my mother and husband are constantly fighting and I can’t take it anymore.  What do I do?

Cousin 2:  Aya, she’s vicious but I love her.  What do I do?

So dear friends, as I sit (or stand) clueless at these genuinely painful queries, the only thought that crosses my mind is this: when in my history of dating useless men (and being doubly useless myself) have I given the impression that I knew what I was doing? 

Nonetheless, just because I am single doesn’t mean I will not be generous in spirit.  Here is my sincere advice from limited experience in matters of love and couplehood:

Cousin 1, talking is overrated.  Have you seen that episode of Six Feet Under about the man who talked alot?  Unfortunate for him, he was cast in the first 60 seconds of the show when a poor bastard meets an untimely demise.  At the kitchen table, droning about something or the other, his wife geta a crazy look on her face from listening to him for too bloody long.  She picks up a pan from the stove and cracks his stupid head open.  Believe me, cousin, talking is overrated.  That bitch will kill you.  Keep your mouth shut and she’ll give up soon enough.

Old friend, I know nothing about in-laws.  All I know is that the in-law relationship is cooked somewhere in the 4th circle of hell.  You see, a mother will have an average kid.  She will find him or her average for much of their lives and will struggle to say anything good about them in a bragging circle. 

The moment the regrettably average offspring pairs up with a mate, an in-law gene switches on in the previously unimpressed mother.  Target for destruction: said mate.  It is evolutionary.  It will always be around. 

Cousin 2, yours is the question that caused me the longest pause (about 45 seconds).  I hate vicious people.  I also hate cruel, abrupt, sadistic, and black-hearted ones.  My first instinct was to tell you to dump her, change your name, move to another state and change your nose if you have to.  But I thought about the messy love thing you put in your question (I’m sorry but, gag).  Don’t know how you do it but I think she needs a taste of her own medicine on Valentine’s day.  The same medicine she feeds humanity the rest of the year. 

I suggest you do the following and exactly in this order: arrange for a call from a fake credit agency and tell her that she’s deep in collections from unpaid purchases 6 months ago.  Then, blow out her tires that morning and don’t pick up the phone when she tries to call and get you to do things for her.  Finally, show up at work without a card or roses, bend down and offer her a lovely bouquet of ass hairs. 

Happy Valentine’s!

Dear readers, I almost killed someone this weekend. No, I wasn’t under the influence of anything stronger than ginger ale. I didn’t almost rip a neighbour’s face off in panicked fear in the parking lot. I was fully conscious, holding my blunt kitchen knife to my side while running it lightly against my pants. There will be blood and I will not regret the 25 to life.

Thursday night around 8p.m.

My mother (on the phone): Your aunt so-and-so and her son are passing you by.

Me (home for 10 minutes, haven’t even taken shit off): Huh

My mother (impatient now): Your aunt so-and-so! You know her from your cousin’s wedding….

Me (growling through my 2 month old cough): When are they passing by and how long are they staying?

By now, I’m thinking that paying for a 2-day hotel stay will be pretty cheap; this time of the year sucks for hotels.

My mother: Tomorrow at 4p.m. They’ll wait for you at the airport till you get back from work.

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation with my mother. I think fights with mothers are best done face to face, the phone somehow takes the edge off of things. Your mother has to stand there and glare at your while you shout and then all she has to do is say the 1 or 2 words that rip your innards out. But that’s cool, as long as you get a couple of good screams 10 inches away from her face.

Sigh.

The boy and his mother destroyed my apartment. He looked about 10 when I first saw him but he was actually 7. My garbage chute, fridge handle, DVD player, living room fan, 2nd bathroom toilet, TV remote control, and closet door are NOT working. And this is what I have discovered last night when I took them to the airport.

Mind you, this is an apartment on the market.

I don’t even know what to say or do. I do shit like this to myself all the time. I never say no to my mother and without a fail, I get screwed.