She Left in a Huff

She left in a huff, leaving a trail of her displeasure. She couldn’t hide disgust, and/or frustration at me. Stacy had been sort of meticulous in her plans to put me in the most uncomfortable of situations; a pile of soaked laundry, a kitchen floor that looked like an after party of chickens after prowling through muddy puddles and most of all a blocked kitchen sink. She left the toilet unflushed and the stench that emanated from it was way too putrid. Of all, the unflushed toilet stuck a sore thumb in me, something I am more than willing to stake my life to testify against her in heaven ( should she land there anyway). I can’t even wrap my head around it….how can a completely sane human being…..maybe I should done a background check if there was any history of retardation in her family.

She’s gone. Stacy is gone. It seemed her scent didn’t even hang around any longer. It is like she coaxed it to leave with her. She left for every other reason girls leave; unfounded infidelity claims. Stacy is gone. In a huff. She said I should grow up then banged the door as she left. She never even asked for fare, even though the previous week she had spent almost the entire second reiterating how a church mouse is richer than her. Whoever programmed girls to constantly whine about their lack of money in presence of men should be hanged for mental sabotage of the fairer sex as well as treason on fundamental rights and freedoms, if such a thing exists.

As I paced up and down the living room getting accustomed to the silence, I resolved that following her up and apologizing will be futile. In itself it would admission of guilt. I am not guilty. I subscribe to one man one woman kind of philosophy and to be accused of contravening my own doctrines is another matter all together.  A part of me also knew that it would be hard to adapt to the absence of her hearty laugh, a laugh that stilled echoed at a distance, filling every empty space inside the house.

Stacy will sober up. She will. I thought as a consolation. When she does the relationship would be on my own terms not hers. I can even go against my doctrines and cheat on her so that the next time she goes berserk it won’t for no reason at all. Then I will have known where the meat is sweet, a basis for my apologies if need be.

I am also paranoid of the fact that she may have already moved on immediately she stepped out that house. You never know with girls. Or maybe she doesn’t have transport and a dude will offer to pay and she ends up in his bed. I can only imagine me calling her a week or so later, having immensely missed her.

“Hallo,” I will say after she picks on the fifth try.

“Hallo, who is this?” I can imagine Stacy saying, a curdling in the stomach takes shape, seeking an outlet in the rage I will feel. I mean for all the resilience, calling more than five times only for her to ask for introductions? Jesus.

“I am the guy who will be stamping you ticket to heaven, “I will solemnly reply.

“Sorry?” she’ll retort and the disgust in her voice is palpable, you know the kind you can knead and make small balls of IDGAFs? Yes that one.

“I am the guy who will be stamping you ticket to heaven, “ I will not resist the temptation to repeat even though I know she heard me right.

“I am sorry I am not interested in heaven right now, it’s not a destination of my craving,” she will say again, without actually hanging up. A cue. You know those kinds of girls who will tell you they don’t want to talk to you yet they actually picked the phone, and they are not in any hurry to hang up?

“I know someone who might be of help…might actually know where you…..” bleep bleep! She hangs up.

That’s the kind of shit you just weren’t build for.