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Day Fifteen.

I miss the way she used to walk— or hobble if she was in a bad mood. I miss her eyes, should she ever look into mine again, I would be a happy man. Boy. Man.

And that puss.

One time she asked me what my ultimate sexual fantasy was. It was awkward because, for one, I lied to her about it.

Me: In a giant robot. I want to have sex in a giant robot.

Katy: With one or in one?

Me: In one. Like a giant EVA unit from End of Evangelion.

Katy: What’s End of Evangelion?

Me: The movie version of one of my favorite TV shows. We talked about it on the way here.

Katy: You talked about it. And anyways, sex in a giant robot would be impossible. I’m talking about a fantasy we can live out in this hotel room.

Me: This is a non-smoking room, though.

Really, my fantasy was to bang her and her sister together— and if that wasn’t doable then I wanted to have a threesome with her and her best friend, Jaye. “And I can drink as much as I want and pass out while you and Jaye still have sex with me. And each other,” I never said.

What would you have done? Giant robots seems like it would be the go-to answer for me.

You know what’s weird is I can remember my lie but I can’t remember Katy’s sexual fantasy. I didn’t even ask her, come to think of it. But she definitely didn’t say “have a threesome”. She didn’t even ask if that’s what I wanted.

“Lets do the teacher fantasy,” she’d say.

“Only if you’re teaching special ed,” I’d say.

So we did that.

I knew signing onto Skype to talk to Katy was going to be a tense disaster. Son of a bitch, let me explain. I know you’ll let me explain. Here:

“Charlie,” she said, “I got my first piece of mail here in Argentina!”

“That’s exciting,” I said. I always tell Katy things are exciting because that’s the only synonym I know for “stupid”.

“They got they address right and everything. It’s from our old high school,” she beamed.

“Our high school mailed mailed you? What are they asking for, donations?”

“No, check this out, it’s actual physical mail.” Katy unfolded a white sheet of paper and held it up to the camera.

“I can’t see it, sweety, you’re—,” she held the paper closer, “you’re covering the camera with the sheet, Katy.”

“Look at it,” she whined. Katy didn’t understand I was going to have a hell of a time trying to read 12 pt. font text through a webcam. I decided to give it to her straight.

“Listen to me: tell me what it says. There is not a kind bone in my body capable of explaining the technological limits of reading 12 pt. text over Skype.” Katy pulled the paper away and set it down in front of her. She looked…shit, she was starting to get fat. Getting fat meant getting angry. Hives, too.

“Fine, you fucking jerk,” she shot back, “It says I’m invited to our high school reunion in June.”

“Really?” I said, “Not that I care about our high school reunion but how come you’re invited and I’m not?”

“Who says you’re not invited?” she said.

“Katy, you’re in Argentina and you didn’t even change your address and the invitation still made it to you in April. I live six miles away.”

“Maybe yours is late in the mail, Charlie. Maybe Chaz accidentally picked it up.” Preposterous. Chaz, my roommate, would never have picked up my mail because he has little hands.

“Sure, Katy. Little Handy Andy stole my high school reunion invitation.”

“Why are you being such a dick tonight?” she said. Her face was now a yin-yang symbol but instead of evil and good it was hives and not-hives.

“Because we went to the same high school, Katy.”

“That’s no reason to be such a twat,” she said.

“Katy, you’re breaking out in hives.”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

“You know you break out in hives and seem fatter to me when you’re angry.”

“That’s so fucking insensitive, Charlie, I can’t believe you would actually say that to me.”

Maybe it was insensitive. Maybe it wasn’t. All I knew was that Katy and I hadn’t been in a fight like this since the last time I broke up with her.

Day —Minus Two Hundred and One.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

You could just smell the finality in the air — and even the tears streaming down her cheeks if you were a dog.

“It’s not— Katy, I’ve made my decision.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Can’t you smell the finality, baby?”

“I’m not some sort of dog, Charlie,” she said.

“Actually,” I asked her, “What is that smell?”

“Buffalo wings,” she whimpered. “I got you your fucking goddamn favorite food for dinner.” She didn’t whimper that out, actually. At least she wasn’t breaking out in hives. Tears of pain, sure, but no hives.

The rumble of thunder in the distance elicited a quizzical look from her for just a moment before her face began to contort back into a wretched look of a look. She began wailing. We were still standing in the same places we had been when I told her “[I] couldn’t do [this] anymore”.

All of this was terribly awkward. This, after all, was the second time I had broken up with Katy.

Day Minus Nine Hundred and Eighty Two.

“How can you do this to me?” she asked.

“I have to, Katy. I’m my own person—as are you. We’re just going down different paths in our life.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. I thought you loved me, Charlie,” Katy said, taking her hands off the wheel to wipe away a tear. Christ, I forgot, she was driving—this shouldn’t have happened when she was driving. What are plans fucking for, Charlie? For getting them right, not for forgetting them, alright? Fuck.

.

.

.

Actually we can get back to that one later. Focus, Reader:

Katy backed away from me and retreated further into the living room, collapsing on her couch. “Great, it’s going to start raining,” she said. “Perfect day.”

“It’s not going to rain, Katy. It’s August in Southern California; It was sunny as all fuck when I got here. It sounds like a helicopter.”

“You’re fucking crazy” she asserted—and not for the first time.

“Don’t call me crazy. Look, out the window, it’s not raining outside.”

“I can’t look out the window!” she screamed.

“Maybe it looks like it’s raining to you because of all the tears.”

Katy took a deep breath and then threw the pillow at me. “You told me you loved me!”

She was starting to get fat. Still, no hives.

“You told me you loved me!” she repeated, turning up the heat.

“Katy, it’s just that you don’t listen to me. Like this helicopter thing, for instance. It’s not raining outside. You can’t see that because you’re crying; everything looks like it’s raining to you. And it’s a goddamn helicopter!”

“What are you even saying?” Katy screamed. A surge of hives made themselves apparent on her newly-embiggened arms. The girl wasn’t yelling because she couldn’t understand me, either: her house was now shaking from the helicopter.I shouldn’t have done this at her house, I thought. Goddamn plans, Charlie. Goddamn plans.

“It’s thunder, Charlie, not a helicopter!” she screeched. I distinctively heard the sound of windows shattering upstairs.

“Holy shit!” I called, “the windows upstairs must have exploded or something.”

“That was lightening, Charlie” Katy continued, her hives now covered the visible majority of her visible skin. She stood up and shook her hands at me, raising her voice over the whirl of the SWAT team that was apparently storming the second level of her house. “How long have you been lying to me?”

Of course, I hadn’t been lying to Katy about being in love with her. At least, not for too long. Maybe a week or so. But she wasn’t willing to hear that.

“I haven’t been lying to you, Katy. I loved you for a long time. But this is getting to be too much for me.” Another window crashing punctuated my sentence.

“I planned my life around you!”

“Katy, I think that this is a conversation that definitely needs to happen!” I yelled to her, “but I am about 99% sure that a SWAT team is going to rush this downstairs area in about—”

Katy interrupted me—”You’re fucking crazy, Charlie. You’re right: we are done!”

That proved to be the last time Katy would interrupt me— at least until we got back together 48 days later. It was almost too late when I saw the lasers train themselves on Katie gigantic and massive titties.

“Abbot and Costello!”

“What!?”

“They have lasers pointed at your tits! Duck!”

“I can’t feel them!” she cried back.

“There is not a kind bone in my—” I stopped for a second. The SWAT team should have killed us both by now. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to argue about inability to understand physics.

“DUCK!” I screamed. And Katy, God bless her heart, actually tried ducking. Case in point: Katy tried to duck and knocked herself out with her tits.

That left me off the hook. So I ran as fast as I could out of her house before I could get shot or get knocked out by titties.

We’re perfect for each other.

______________________________

“I didn’t read it,” Katy told me. She knows about the blog.

“Is it because of the break up stuff?”

“I’m sure readers will like it. And I even thought the fighting part was funny. But I don’t like going back to our break ups,” Katy said to me. No hives or anything, but she sure sounded like she’d been shot in the tits.

“It’s not real though,” I said.

“And I don’t appreciate you calling my breasts ‘Frank Zappas’, either.”

“I called them Abbot and Costellos.”

“What thefuck is that even supposed to mean?” she said. And, again, the hives started coming out.

“It was like, the first thing that came up on Google when I was looking for synonyms for breasts. I’m not a fucking genius or anything, Katy.” She was starting to get on my nerves. This was, after all, the fourth fight we had gotten into in this blog post.

“I’m going to do you a favor,” I told her,” You’re starting to break out in the hives again. Every time you break out in hives it reminds me of our break up. So stop breaking out in hives: It’s unattractive.”

“Tons of people find hives attractive, Charlie.”

“Then go join a hive hive—er, a hive colony or something. You’re more than welcome to google the subject.”

“I hope they forgot about your invitation to the high school reunion, Charlie, I really hope they did.”

“You’re going to regret saying that, I swear to God.”

“This is the third time you’ve mentioned God in this blog post, Charlie. And the dialogue is starting to get repetitive and even more nonsensical by the syllable”

Things started getting really hazy because I couldn’t remember when I was actually having this conversation with Katy. In fact, I’m pretty sure that we didn’t even have this conversation so much as text it to each other and then I tried to turn it into something that actually happened.

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