Maybe I’m crazy

Maybe you’re crazy

Maybe we’re crazy


– Gnarls Barkley


One of my most favorite SomeEcard posts on Pinterest is the one that says: “Sure, you’ll go tell everyone that I was crazy, but you’ll forget to tell them the part about you being an ass.”

You know, it truly is remarkable how spot-on those little nuggets of cyber wisdom are. I have probably uttered that very same comment at least six times everyday for the last 9+ years (the length of my relationship with Mr. Big).


Because it’s the f*&king truth.

Mr. Big loves telling “So this one time, when MC lost her f*&king mind…” stories. He thinks they are hilarious. He belly laughs, and points, and chuckles, and even sprinkles in completely made-up bits just for some added umph. People will raise their eyebrows, make a snarky comment, and sometimes laugh along with him (but not that often… mainly because he’s a terrible storyteller). I imagine these people walk away thinking, “Woo. Just another crazy girlfriend story.” But what they don’t know is what sort of douchebaggery caused me to go off the deep end in the first place.

Super convenient, no?

And then, when I tell the full story – say, in a blog, maybe – I’m the bad guy.

“You are my worst enemy!” he whines.

So then I’m all, “I own everything that happens to me. I will tell my stories. If people wanted me to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.” (My second favorite Pinterest quote.)


Sometimes, I ask people close to us, “Does your boyfriend/husband/significant other act this way? Does he annoy the ever living f*&k outta you?” Do you know what they say? Nine times out of ten they say, “No. Not like that.” Other times, I vent to people. I pour out my soul. I tell anyone that will listen about the random bullshit I have to put up with on a minute-to-minute basis. I regurgitate everything just because I want to be sure I’m not losing my brain. Every now and then, when we’ve had a really bad fight, I’ll lay in bed and lose precious sleep racking my mind over every single word of our argument. I spend most nights drifting off to the soothing feeling of a habitual head shake…

Anywho, with all of that being said, I thought it would be fun to compile a list. Don’t worry. I’ve already notified my other-half about this little research project. Actually, just today at lunch I said, “I’m going to write a blog about this. You know I’m writing one on how big of an asshole you are, right?”

He promptly advised me he wouldn’t be liking this post.

So, here they are, five reasons why my idiot boyfriend drives me bat shit crazy:


The Situation

We went to Free Pie Wednesday at O’Charley’s. (P.S.: You’re welc for that little freebie.) He ordered a slice of pecan and I got a piece of French Silk. When we got back to the BBB we were stuffed. I left our free dessert sitting in the passenger side floorboard of my car. It’s October. They would be fine, right? Wrong. That afternoon, when I dropped Big off at his house, I noticed his size thirteens had knocked our two To Go boxes on their side. Chocolate was oozing out of my box and onto my plastic floor mat.

Why He’s An Ass

At first, he grabbed both pie boxes but when he realized mine was leaking… he put it back in the floor… on its side. “Dude. It’s leaking! Don’t put it back down there, asshole. Can you at least throw it away?” I shouted. He bent down, scooped the box back up, and then put both boxes on the roof of my car as he opened the back door to retrieve his laptop. “See ya later,” he mumbled through dip-filled cheeks as he slammed both car doors and sauntered up the driveway. As I put the car in reverse, I spotted only one pie box in his hand.

Some Might Call Me Crazy Because…

My first instinct was to get out of the car, grab the gooey box off of my roof, and throw it at him. But then, I thought better of it, “He’d run as soon as he heard the car shift into park.” So, I went with the next best thing – I spun doughnuts in his front yard until the box of chocolate slung off into the grass. And then, once the box was on the ground, I spun one more just to be sure it busted and made a real mess.

As Big stood belly laughing in his driveway… I gave him the finger and sped off.


The Situation

I had Mr. Big run me by the grocery store. I bought a box of tampons and a small bag of peanut M&Ms. Damn, I really wanted those M&Ms. Anyhow, as I got back into the car, Big grabbed my ass (which I absolutely hate) or something to that effect. A struggle ensued. In a last ditch effort to “get the last word,” I took my store receipt, ripped it up into teeny tiny pieces, and then threw them up in the air. (Yeah, I know. Total bitch move.) Little white pieces of paper went everywhere. The Neon was instantly transformed into a winter wonderland.

Why He’s An Ass

He snatched my grocery bag out of my hand and slung it out of the window. Tampons exploded onto the street. M&Ms rained down from the heavens. “Go back right now!” I yelled, “Turn around and pick everyone of those tampons up, you douche bag! I f*&king need those! And goddamn it, I wanted those f*&king M&Ms!” At this point, I think he realized the severity of his decision. He turned around, parked the Neon on the side of the road, and dodged cars as he collected bits and pieces of feminine hygiene products out of the street. When he had picked up all he could, he opened the car door and said, “Here.” “I can’t use these!” He looked surprised, almost offended as he asked, “Why not?” “You just picked them up out of the street! Most of them aren’t even in the package anymore! I’m not putting that shit in my vagina! You’re gonna buy me new ones!” “Oh no I’m not.” “Oh yes you are!”

Some Might Call Me Crazy Because…

When we got back to his house I stormed inside and headed straight for his bedroom. Big knew what I was after… his coin jar. I was determined to get compensated for my trashed tampons and M&Ms. Who cares if I had to pay in nickels? Money was money and this dickwad wasn’t getting away with stiffing me! But he was quicker, and bigger, and stronger than me. He grabbed the mug of coins before I could. I stomped out of the house even more infuriated now… Big was right behind me. When we both reached the porch, I went in for one last dig… I tried to kick his potted plant off the ledge. The key word here being “tried.” Unfortunately, I misjudged the weight of the pot, and my first kick didn’t do shit.

But the second one did… and that’s what matters.


The Situation

Mr. Big and I were both in relationships when we first started seeing each other. So basically, anytime we wanted to hang out it had to be on the DL. On this particular day, I had just made it back from my high school senior trip to the beach. It was the day after his twenty-second birthday. He called me over to his house (he was still living with Momma and Daddy B) to hang out. We chilled for a few hours. I caught him up on my trip and showed him pictures on my new digital camera. Suddenly, as he was walking me out to my car to leave, he grabbed my hand and we ran back inside. Confused, I demanded to know what was going on, “What are you doing? What the hell is going on?” He took me back to the spare bedroom…

Why He’s An Ass

And then, that bastard pushed me under the bed. “My sister. She was driving up to the house. You have to stay here. Don’t move,” he mumbled. His sister stomped around the house looking for me, calling out for me, and talking shit to her brother. The three of us played hide-n-seek for a bit before she lifted the dust ruffle of the bed I was under and said, “Alright, you can come out now.”

Some Might Call Me Crazy Because…

I was livid. Livid this fool had just pushed me under a bed. Livid I had actually stayed under said bed. And livid that his sister genuinely thought I cared that she “caught” me seeing him. I marched right past the both of them and straight to my car. F*&k him. F*&k him and his ball-less, girlfriend having, bitch-ass no good self. I was officially done with the bullshit. Done with the late night texts, and the sneaking around, and the lying. I was done with him. Buuuut before I was done with this particular situation I had to tie up just one tiny lose end… like an idiot, I had left my phone somewhere in the house. So I took a deep breath, marched right back in there, past both of those screaming idiots (I actually said, “Sorry guys. Forgot my phone.”), and back to the spare bedroom. I collected my phone from under the bed and I marched right back out… again. And then – once I was sure I had all of my belongings – I fishtailed out of his gravel driveway.

If I remember correctly, he received a “Congratuf*&kinglations. I f*&king hate you.” text soon after. You know, I just wanted to be sure he caught my drift.


The Situation

I bought Mr. Big Eric Church concert tickets for his thirtieth birthday. Turns out, Bubba had a home game that very same night, at the very same time, and he was slated to be on the ticket. I couldn’t miss that. So I backed out. No biggie though. I mean, what do I care, I hate country (sans Miranda Lambert and Garth Brooks). I told Big to take one of his BFFs or Daddy B. I told him to give the tickets to his parents. He refused both and posted the information to FaceBook instead.

Why He’s An Ass

Tuesday night, before the Saturday show, he “sales” the tickets to a man and then skips town for a race. The “plan” was for me to take them to work on Thursday, I would give them to Alex, who would give them to his brother Andy, who would give them to his girlfriend Amanda, who would take them to work with her on Friday and give them to Lacey, who would then give them to Steve. However, Lacey informs me Thursday afternoon she doesn’t work on Fridays. You know what Mr. Big said to that? He told me to, “Handle it.” Words could not describe how angry I was. Handle it? Who gets a gift from someone and then makes the giver return it?! Not to mention that yaywho was completely confident that he was to pocket any monies collected during the sale! I was the one stuck with $300.00 worth of f*&king tickets to get rid of and I’ll be damned if he was going to see a penny of it!

Some Might Call Me Crazy Because…

I sold the tickets at the very last minute. Thank God! However, Big and I didn’t speak the entire weekend and I was fuming from the whole situation. I was so sick over the possibility of losing that money, I didn’t sleep for two nights straight. It infuriated me more knowing he was spending the weekend racing – pissing away my money – without a care in the world. “On Sunday, he will most likely call on his way home and want to do dinner like nothing happened,” I thought. “And when I don’t answer, he’ll text, and call some more… and then eventually, he’ll just show up at my house (he has a key) and badger me to talk to him.”

So, I changed my locks.


The Situation

(This one is an oldie, but damn, it’s a goodie.) I bought three stocking holders at Christmastime last year. One was a Christmas tree. Two were reindeer. I hanged Sonny’s stocking (the actual stocking that has an embroidered basset hound on it) on the Christmas tree holder. I hanged two identical white stockings (one for me, one for Big) on the reindeer holders.

Why He’s An Ass

He broke the f *&king antlers off of one of the reindeer holders because, “Momma deer don’t have antlers.”

Some Might Call Me Crazy Because…

I went nuts. I literally went insane. I snatched the holder up off of the table and lurched at him. My heart was telling me to beat him in his big ass head with that antler-less reindeer holder, but my mind was saying, “It’s gonna be so hard to hide the body…”

I went with hurling the holder in the trashcan and kicking him out of my house.


Look, some of you are probably reading this and thinking, “Oh my shit. Why are they even still together??! These people really are nuts.” And maybe we are. Maybe we really are just completely white-padded-wall crazy. But then, I think about our normal days. The ones where we go to Sam’s Club on a Sunday, or make dinner, or eat lunch alone together at work, or try to sing duets going down the interstate. And it’s hard for me to walk away. It’s hard for me to not to just laugh at the crazy and carry on.

Maybe our personalities are just too explosive together. Maybe we are too much alike, and yet, still so altogether different. Maybe we’ve just been together so long it’s hard for us to actually grow up. Maybe I choose to focus too much on what’s wrong with us and he focuses too much on what’s right. Maybe I expect too much.

Who knows.

But whatever we may be – whatever this is – it is way to f*&king hilarious to give up.



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