Davis - Editorial

I'm going to tell you how it happened, then I'm going to tell you why, then you can tell me who's right...

Cute right? She had just returned from a long day of orientation for her new job, I had just quit my job over a very drawn out incident involving a man in a bunny costume (a week ago). I was job hunting all day, then writing, then taxes, then for whatever reason we had about an hour's worth of dishes to do, so I did them. In New York, barely anyone has dish washers, they don't come with your apartment and there's no room for them anyway. The second she got home she was in a rush, but looking through the mail, she said she had to go to the bank real quick and asked if would I drive her? Of course, see to her I had been sitting here since nine o'clock (when she left), to me I had just returned from a long day of annoying bull, none of which contributed to my 401k.

So we're in New York, but we have a parking garage at our Apartment, so through the electrical gate, I back out, to drive to the bank, in streets that are so narrow, and packed with cars, parked on both sides that I feel like I'm in London, but driving an SUV. So we get to the bank, I have to double park, long story short, we're back on the couch. See the things I do to show a woman that I love her? Not Elizabethan but about as modern as chivalry can get.

Flipping through the DV-R, she overwhelms the room with a giddy shriek that only a man who loves can appreciate. I smile too, because I've been waiting all day to make her happy...

So what could possibly have made her this happy? I don't even have her attention anymore...

"Angel, do you want a drink or anything?" I ask her, getting up thinking she wants a glass of Winter Sangria or maybe one of the passion fruit mojito's I've been making this week.

"No thanks, I'm good," she is not even in the room right now. She might as well be in another country.

And here's where it all started, "I cut off my penis today..." I tested.

She had no reply.

"I gave it to a homeless man..."

She wasn't even watching the show, she was fast-forwarding.

"He loved it..."

It was a scene straight out of Scrubs, she looked over at me and said, "That's so sweet, baby," and smiled.

Fucking American Idol, seriously, where do the Producers and the Executives at Fox get off airing two two-hour a night shows in one week, then another fucking hour on Thursday, just to fuck with me! Do I really need to sit through this shit for five hours out of my week. At the before mentioned job, which I just quit, there were throngs of illegal immigrants (who worked under American names) and a lot of people living out the second stint of their M-1 Visas. ALL of them flocked out at punch-out time, in droves, Tuesday-Thursday, just to see American Idol.

Let me give you a bit of history of A.I. and Davis. It has been at least partially responsible for the last three break-ups in my life. Those break-ups, in length, if boiled together would be six years worth of a relationship. All over some grown ass people who act like Musical Theater Majors, yet for the most part they've all been out of school for three or four years!

Seriously ladies?

...

Really?

REALLY!?

Okay, if there were more McPhee's...

Bring back McPhee, if you want me to not kill myself.

The bottom line, I'm sorry that I sound like Seth & Amy on Weekend Update, but American Idol might be the reason I drink. I'm not sure yet, but if my magic 8 ball had anything to say about it, "Sources say yes." It was around that time that I set the alarm on my cell phone for 6:45 and left it on vibrate under my pillow.

When it became 6:45 the next morning (Friday morning), my phone vibrated and woke me up, luckily it didn't wake her up... So I could go forward with my plan, toss and turn, just keep tossing and turning, until she woke up and had to ask me, "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep, the whole night, I couldn't sleep..."

"Oh no! Are you sick?" she perks up, as if her five hour American Idol marathon meant she gave a fuck.

"Last night, I told you that I had cut off my penis, gave it to a homeless man, and he 'loved it'. And you just smiled and said, 'that's amazing', then tortured me for the next five hours with American Idol..."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" She springs up and walks out of the room.

I sprang up too and walked out of the room, she wants to leave me? No, I'm going to leave her first, "NO! You fucking stay, I always have to go to the fucking bedroom when we fight, you stay in the bedroom and I'm going to play couch commando," and I started towards the couch.

And with that she walked past me, back into the bedroom.

That was it, that was the last time I saw her, before Xunta (where she looked better than she's ever looked, by the way). Who owes who the apology? And who will crack? Will I be Jennifer Anniston or Vince Vaughn?