But when I logged in, I discovered that she had deleted me as her friend. Weird, I thought. I hadn't realized she put so much thought into this whole affair. But whatever, at least it meant that she couldn't harass me through Facebook now! The thought actually filled me with delight.
Or at least it did until the next day, when I discovered the real reason she had deleted me.
I was in the dressing room in Calgary, when a mutual friend of BM and myself went to the bar for a drink, and left her FB page open. I knew that she would let me if I asked, so I jumped up and searched her friends until I came upon BM's name, and opened her profile.
And that's when I saw it. The reason she had deleted me as a friend.
It was her status update. The thing that gets sent to all your Facebook friends whenever you write something new. Since I was no longer her friend, I wasn't eligible to see it - and that's where she was trashing me.
"Why, oh why is it so hard to get money from Baby Daddy? Guess all his money's going to his new stripper girlfriend and her perk problem."
I sat there stunned for a moment, unable to move. Was this really happening? I wondered. Could this girl really sink so low as to trash me for a former problem WHICH SHE ALSO STRUGGLED WITH in front of all our friends? While I spent my time and money taking care of her fucking daughter?
A burning rage slowly started to seep into me. It started with a shock in my heart and started to spread like fire through my veins until it reached my head and started throbbing behind my eyes. I couldn't believe what a fucking cunt she was. I hate to use that word, but in this situation it is the closest thing to how I feel, and even that word doesn't quite cut it. I couldn't believe the nerve of this selfish little child, and the irony - oh the fucking IRONY of this raging alcoholic with her own former perk problems daring to trash me like this.
It all started two weeks before, when I was working at Speak Easy in Calgary. It was a Wednesday morning, and I woke up at around 7:30 in the morning, howling in pain. It was my teeth, the teeth that I have been trying to avoid dealing with for a very long time now. I haven't been to a dentist for a check up in several years - I prefer to wait until things reach emergency status, and I have no choice. Which is exactly what they did that morning. The pain was unbearable. I shoveled in four extra strength Advils then sat on the curb outside, rocking back and forth and begging God to make it stop. After a good twenty minutes, the pain had lessened somewhat, but I was still crying and knew I had run out of time. I would have to see a dentist.
I drove to the West Hills Dental Centre, which, as it coincidentally turned out, was the closest to my house AND offered sedation dentistry. Perfect! I went in and saw Dr. Yu, who took an x-ray of my lower left jaw, where my pain was.
The results were not good. One tooth was so far gone that the only option was extraction. Beneath this tooth and the one beside it was an infection, which Dr. Yu said was where the pain was generating from. The extraction and the fillings for the surrounding teeth could not wait, he said. Which meant surgery had to be performed as soon as possible.
Fuck! I didn't have the money or the desire to have dental surgery, but the pain was so bad, I knew I didn't have a choice. He started me on a round of antibiotics for the infection and gave me a prescription for Tylenol 3s, to help manage the pain, and my surgery was booked for the following week.
I continued to work, but for the next few days, I was in too much pain to eat, and was popping pills constantly - my antibiotics every six hours, a couple T3s and Advil every four, plus the the prescriptions that I already have to take every day. So I don't know why I was surprised when M called to tell me that BM had called him to discuss my 'drug problem'. Apparently someone from the club had told her that I was "very thin and taking lots of pills". And of course, with the maturity level of the child that she is, BM took this and ran with it as far as she could - demanding that the "pill-popper" stay away from her daughter, taking digs at me about being too thin ("You stupid stripper why don't you go make yourself throw up to be even thinner") etc.
I couldn't (and still can't) believe the fucking gall of this woman. It's like she forgets everything in her own past as she rides her high horse and condemns others, in particular me. When we were friends, she had told me that she had been addicted to perks - she said that she got hooked on them after her breast augmentation surgery, because "no one told me they were addictive". But the truly ironic thing is that just a few short weeks ago, SHE called ME and begged me to get her some percocets! She claimed to have a broken foot, but that the doctor refused to give her anything for the pain because she was a stripper. She begged me to help her, because she couldn't afford to take time off work, and promised that if I helped her she wouldn't tell M a thing.
Which, of course, she did. I went against my better judgement and trusted her, thinking once again that maybe I could make her like me if I went to any extreme to help, and it bit me in the ass. I couldn't believe that she told M, when SHE WAS THE ONE looking for drugs. She even offered to share them with me, as if I would be stupid enough to agree to that. Though the fact that I trusted her at all was pretty fucking stupid, so who can blame her for trying? All of this just goes to show how low this girl will go.
Anyway, these were the things that were running through my mind as I battled through my show at the Big Easy, which I had to go and perform immediately after discovering BM's status update. I was so angry it took every bit of strength I had not to scream in frustration and stomp off the stage. The moment I got back to the dressing room, though, I furiously started texting M, asking if he had been on Facebook today. He was across the street at a sports pub, watching the game and waiting for me to come and join him.
"No, why?" he replied. "And are you still coming over here?"
I didn't reply, and a few minutes later my phone rang with his ringtone. I grabbed my phone and left the dressing room, heading into the bathroom for some privacy. I answered his call and immediately started to cry. Whatever my brave facade, BM's constant onslaught hurt my feelings, and left me drained. This time, though, she had gone too far. All our mutual friends would receive this message, and I had absolutely no way to defend myself or to tell people the truth. She had the means to put out messages about me that I wouldn't know about, and was therefore unable to respond appropriately, since I didn't even know they were there.
I was really hard on M, which of course I regret. I told him that if he didn't take care of this shit RIGHT NOW, I would be moving out this weekend. I feel badly now that I was so harsh to him, but I was so hurt and angry and so tired of his never doing anything about BMs behavior. He was worse about trying to keep the peace than I was, but this time I was adamant that he could not just leave it be and let it blow over. I was so tired of hearing that: 'she'll calm down and then she'll stop' etc, excusing and basically endorsing her childish and hurtful behavior. Of course she wasn't going to stop when he just buried his head in the sand and did nothing, time and again.Why won't you do anything?! I wanted to scream at him.
I hung up with M and got into my car to drive across the street to the sports bar, and on my way I called my parents. Through my tears I asked my dad if I could move back in with them, until I found my own place. We talked for a few minutes. and Dad calmed me down enough to go into the bar to meet M.
When I walked in, M got up from his table and met me at the hostess stand. We looked at each other awkwardly, neither of us speaking as we made our back to his booth. As soon as I sat down, I looked up and recognized the bartender, and made my decision - if BM can get drunk all the time and act like an ass and threaten to stab people and punch out random strangers, then why can't I have a drink too? Why do I have to be the mature one? If she's not going to stop drinking, why should I? It'd not even my baby, I don't owe anything to anyone.
"I know the bartender," I announced, and stood up again. "I'll be right back." And I walked away before M could say anything else.
I pretended to be jovial as I chatted with the bartender, whom I worked with at the Drink. I asked for my old drink, a blueberry vodka and diet coke, though I did refrain from getting a double, since I had to drive. When I returned to the table, M immediately made a comment about my drink.
"I'm being judged for all this stuff anyway," I snapped, referring to the Facebook reference to my former addiction problems. "I might as well enjoy it."
I knew that I was being uncharitable, but I just couldn't help it. I had had enough of BM's hurtful, childish ways, and i was also furious with M for never doing anything about it. I could see the worry and the disappointment in his eyes as i sipped my drink, and tried to ignore the pang in my chest. This was not what I wanted, but I had run out of strength and hope. I had given up.
We fought for a few minutes, during which M yelled at me for the maybe second time in our entire relationship. I found out that he had been embroiled in a drama with BM all day as well - she had called to tell him that she was leaving the next day for Ontario, and she was taking Baby with her. The reason she was leaving was, as usual, because we didn't do enough to help her.
I was about to point out that she threatens to do this every time she doesn't get her way when M's phone rang. "Ugh" flashed across the screen, and I rolled my eyes in disgust.
Here we go again, I thought.
I let M out of the booth so he could take the phone call outside. I quickly finished my drink, and went up to order another before M could get back and try to stop me. Once I had my drink, I wandered around the bar a bit and went to the bathroom, trying to keep myself busy so I wouldn't have to think about BM and M and the conversation they were currently having. Eventually I made my way back to our table, where I sat with my untouched drink and waited for M to return.
Eventually he did. I asked him about the Facebook status. He said that she would take it down immediately. I waited for him to say more, something about how he would make sure that she left me the fuck alone, but that was it.
"Is she still threatening to leave tomorrow?" I asked. I wanted to now more about their conversation, so I could have some hope that things would get better.
"Yes," he said matter-of-factly.
"So what are you going to do?" I asked. I couldn't understand his apparent apathy.
"There's nothing I can do," he said simply.
Okay, what the fuck? I thought to myself. He jumps to do every little fucking thing she can think to to try and keep her happy, but now all of a sudden it's no big deal? I sighed in frustration, and took another sip of my drink.
"How's you drink?" he asked sarcastically.
"M," I warned, my anger rising until I could no longer sort out a coherent thought. What I wanted to say was How dare you condemn me for drinking, when it's YOUR actions that have driven me to it?! Which, of course, is not true at all. I am responsible for how I act and react to different things. And while the whole situation certainly wasn't helping me stay sober, in the end only I can decide how I will react. And this time I had reacted wrong.
I sighed. I was exhausted, to the very depths of my soul, of hurting all the time. "What do you want to do, M?" I asked. "Do you want to stay together and keep trying? Or do you want to give up?"
He stared at me for a second before replying. "I want to stay together," he finally replied.
I stared back at him for a moment, then I grabbed my almost full drink and dumped it onto the ground under our table, then stood up.
"I gotta go back to work," I said, gathering my stuff together. He nodded, and I silently put on my coat and walked away.
When I got back to work, I filled the girls in on how it went. I had previously kept mum about the whole situation because BM had asked me to, but the gloves were off now, and besides, all the girls had been wondering why I was crying earlier. After BM's little status update, it seemed clear that she had no intention of keeping out drama out of the workplace, and I had told the other dancers why I was crying. We all decided to check Facebook and make sure she had taken down her snotty little jab at me.
She had taken it down. Sort of.
"T0 whoever got upset about what I wrote before, the truth hurts."
Like you would know, you delusional psycho.