He Said, She Said, They Said

Talking shit. Not just something that shouldn't have been said, but flat out lies.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

On Monday, the hubby talked to another friend from work, about a possible option. She could use the financial help, and we could use the emotional help. We even warned her about the worst of the worst, and she still agreed.

On Tuesday, the hubby loaded up his car and drove Ketchup over to her apartment and dropped him off. If it seems simple, it wasn't, especially because it's not over. So far, it was way too casual.

Monday night: "Hey ____, want to come move in with me? I've already talked it over with ____." Blink. She wasn't supposed to say anything yet. Oh well, it's out there. "Sure" he mumbles in return. Somehow I am not yet relieved. We head to the bar. The hubby says "so you're cool with moving in with ____? You can help her out and ____ can come move in with us and help us out." Again, too casual.

Everyone, including Ketchup is too cool with this. It feels like nothing is resolved. I had to go home. I was emotional and couldn't hide it. I invited Sassy over (too young to be at the bar with us) and vented, cried. It was my turn to be overly emotional, and her turn to listen.

Later, the hubby and the bar crew made it back to the apartment. The hubby was not happy that I had left and in turn had a total of five drinks. Seven months of fighting over Ketchup and I was done. "So when are you moving in ____?" She asks. "Oh I can't move anything at the moment." He responded clutching his broken ribs. Blink. Oh, no, no, no. I ain't waiting until the doctor gives him a clean bill of health to get his ass out of here. I looked at the hubby. The hubby looked at Our Bum.

Tuesday morning: "So how about we load up the car and run you over to ____'s place?" Our Bum was even happy to help, seeing as the couch would soon be his. In the course of packing, Ketchup sat down half a dozen times. We'd all exchange looks when this happened, each thinking the same thing, "you're not friggin' done yet, bastard." The hubby kept an eye on him, making sure he didn't take anything that wasn't his, games and whatnot. When he assumed he was done, the hubby and Our Bum carried all of his shit down to the car and off they went.

While they were gone, I cleaned. I vacuumed and rearranged since we had the area in our room back that had been home to a mountain of Ketchup's every possession for the last seven months. When the hubby returned home, it was quiet and all smiles. We were free. "Did you ask him about still giving us money?" "We kind of just dropped him off and ran." We'll figure it out.

Since then: No waking up every morning to Ketchup coughing on weed he has no intension of sharing. Our Bum actually offers me the controller when he's playing the XBox. He says please and thank you. He listens to what I say and respects me. He even pulls out the television himself to reset it when it craps out. The best part? Our Bum actually leaves the house. He not only has a job (that's not graveyard,) but he actually has a life. Friends, things to do, places to be. This is the second day I have been alone for hours, and while I'm slightly lonely (for anyone but Ketchup that is) it's been real nice to actually accomplish things like the dishes and cleaning the bathroom.

Today was payday, and while Ketchup has agreed to give us money, the hubby is being a bit too nice about it. "It's okay if it's not the full amount... maybe this much and we'll call it even on the games we went half on together... or maybe this much this time and that much next time..." We are broke, so much so I choose to pay the electric bill late verses sending my bank account into overdraw. With the hubby's work cutting so many hours, his paycheck isn't enough. We need that money from Ketchup, and he owes us still for the month he lived here for free.

If you ask me, he has no right to the games that he went half on. Going half on those games only partially makes up for the fact that he didn't contribute to the XBox or the television itself, even though he used both more then me or the hubby combined. How about all of the other bullshit we had to put up with? The lack of courtsy, the complete disrespect, the stupidity of just not thinking or caring about anything, and the topper on the cake, the shit talk. Unfortunately this is something we can't say to him until after he gives us the money, otherwise we will never see a cent.

The hubby has assured me, that after we get our money from him, we will be letting Ketchup in on our displeasure. I don't want the hubby to loose the friendship, but I need the validation of him knowing what he did wrong. Is that wrong? Is it selfish to want to inform him just how much he has taken advantage of us? That we know he's been talking shit? That he had better not do the same thing to his current supplier of housing who happens to be a good friend of ours.

That's it for now, I have to go respond to a MySpace message from Sassy, she's having trouble with Tall again, though it really seems more his fault then her's this time. Boys suck sometimes.

P.S. Here's a hint about my next post: We looked at an apartment last night.