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These. These are the life experiences that are making me cynical. Jaded. Bitter. Distrustful of others. The kind of woman that my little brother calls a "Bossy Woman." You know. The kind of asexual, emasculating woman that all men hate. I can see myself 10 years down the road already - by that time, I will have it so far down to a science that I wont even suffer certain men to speak to me. Because I'll have already had the entire conversation with them in my head, decided they arent "Worth The Time" or the effort and walked away. You know. The conversation I have with my little brother every day.
Oh wait. You have no idea what I'm talking about do you? Do let me share. In what universe do I live? It must be the universe where I am walking around with a sticker on my forehead that says, "Take Advantage of Me." Do let's start at the beginning. You see, "In The Beginning" (which was in March 2008), I decided to lend a guy my Tacoma pick-up truck. But its far deeper than that. This truck, while I admit is kind of hick and strange for a girl, was my very first vehicle bought in college and I paid it off with sweat and blood, ok? I moved a lot, and I seriously and always appreciated my vehicle. Also, I beat the crap out of that thing and it never complained or stopped running (When I say "beat the crap," I DO mean beat the crap - consider I have never had the suggested maintenance at the required intervals. Not once. Only frequent oil changes - fully synthetic when I became a card-carrying contributor to society (read: a job after school) - and necessary maintenance when needed).
Over the last few years, I became a vehicle masochist - when I came back from Florida, I discovered I had no heat anymore (Oh God!), and refused to have the heater core replaced. Why replace the heater core for hundreds when you can wear a scarf, gloves, and a hat? Then my sister, who had no car at the time, parked the truck in a bad neighborhood (where the train was at) when I was out of town for weeks on business, and the window was broken and the shiny new CD player I had installed was ripped out of the dash. She was filled with remorse and replaced the window posthaste. She tried and tried to get me to let her replace the radio/CD. I refused to replace it on principle - I had just paid several hundred to have it installed! In retrospect, I admit now that my silence in the face of her continued attempts to get me to let her have it reinstalled was nothing more than absolute, inexpressable fury - but that's another story for another day. People began to ask me why I didnt fix my truck. It wasnt about the money - I had money. They didnt understand that. Neither did I.
Then, in my more recent adult and settled life, the wandering girl with a pickup beat to kingdom come became a thing of the past, and yes: somewhere in there I, too, wondered why I was punishing myself - so, all in the name of responsible adulthood, admission that I was freezing and wanted music to accompany me on the long commute each day and willingness to have a backseat, I upgraded to what I think is a honey of an SUV. My parents died and went to heaven.
So. As my Tacoma languished in my garage, I considered selling it or giving it away - if for nothing more than that it pained me to see it suffer tire-rot over the months. At the very last, I was willing to give it away, simply because I would rather see someone - anyone - get good years out of it rather that have it die a slow, inauspicious death in the dark corner of my garage.
Ok. So BAM! Out nowhere I discover that a family that I know very well and love very dearly are having car trouble. They have several children, an at home mom, and 1 family van that is broken down and in the shop. They are by no means made of money - I admit I probably make more as a single girl than the dad makes for the entire family. The very night after I'm wondering what to do about the truck, I happen to have a conversation with my mom about the Dad - she has no idea how I feel about my truck at this point. She saw the guy walking to an engagement in the morning, crying his eyes out. He had a hat on and had no idea anyone saw him (it is a quiet neighborhood). After this, she started giving him rides when she saw him on the street - and she was commenting to me about the state of their transportation, and how that he was distressed because he worked over 1 hour away, had no way to get to work, and had no way to get his children to school (come to find out they had missed several days of school because of this).
This ripped my heart out because men crying - I mean really crying and for reasons I consider justified - is heartbreaking to me. So, even though it was already almost midnight, I had an epiphany: they could use my truck until their van was fixed! Content that this was the right thing to do, I hopped into the truck, my mom and sister trailing me in my Volkswagen, and we hightailed it over to their house. We met them at their house and they were so happy. We were so happy. Everyone was so happy! This. This, my friend, was probably the most, and the only rewarding experience of this entire interchange.
Now. Admist all this happiness, we talked potential sale of the truck to them, and in that very moment, in MARCH, amidst and in spite of my protestations, I was promised $500 to buy the truck from me in April, regardless of whether they got their van back, with monthly installments thereafter. I didnt want us to get ahead of ourselves: the businesswoman in me and my integrity felt it my duty to list to them the litany of defects with the truck, including the fact that it came over with a failing tire. I begged them not to feel obligated to buy it from me. I repeatedly explained that I would not be spending another PENNY to fix up the truck, and that it was "AS IS." I practically made them promise to just use the truck for now while their van was being fixed as a trial period to see all the problems with it, and to consider for certain whether they really wanted to buy it. If once their van was fixed they felt it too damaged to purchase (this is me assuming they may not have wanted to spend the money to make the cosmetic repairs), they could just return it. No harm, no foul.
Foul! Because they were my friends, and my elders in age, I did not make them sign any paperwork with me. Oh, how I regretted that decision over the many long months to follow, because thus began my long and torturous affair over MY property.
In the first week they had the truck, they came to me and assured me they wanted it, assured me that they would pay me $500 down in April, and told me that we should agree on a final price so they would know how much they needed to pay thereafter in monthly installments. I tossed. I turned. I grappled. I knew their financial situation, and I didnt want to make money off of them or break them financially. All my family said to charge the full price. After many hours in consideration, I decided that being done with the deal was more important to both me and them, and that it was more important that spend their money to make the repairs. I told them that they could just give me the $500 in April, and we could call it an even sale.
Smiles all around, right? Wrong!
April came. Nothing. I spent many days bewildered wondering when they were going to approach me about the money. Did I mention I see them 3 times per week?
April almost went. Finally, in the closing days of the month the Dad approached me. I cannot tell you the relief I felt. Until he spoke. Apparently, he would not have the money until May. In addition to THAT, he wanted to know if he could break it into two payments in May and June. In addition to THAT, he informed me that his wife told him that he HAD to tell me that he had parked my car in a bad neighborhood, and bottom line, someone had tried to steal the catalytic converter - they had not been succesful, but they had damaged the car in the process. You cannot know how I felt. First, disturbed that it was only mentioned to me because his wife made him. Second, seriously concerned, because by his tone I felt it implied that I was supposed to pay to get it fixed. In the nicest way possible, I reminded him that I had no intention of putting any money in the truck, and that I wondered if he was going to fix the damage, and that he could return it immediately, if he was no longer interested in purchasing the vehicle. He assured me he still wanted it, and that he would pay for all repairs (since the car was still technically MINE - but I got no date certain on when it would be fixed).
Do I need to remind anyone that I lost my job on April 1? Its not that I dont have money in the bank, but there is a principal here - they KNEW I was unemployed. I said ok to all these things, but the entire conversation unsettled me.
May came. Nothing. His wife began avoiding me without being mean about it. I was confused at first, then I realized her behaviour was borne of shame. A sense of foreboding fell over me.
May almost went, when I was approached by the husband. Again, money issues. Because he is my friend, and I looked up to him, I quelled the "freak out!" that rose up in me. I assured him that I was willing to sell the vehicle, if he was willing to buy the vehicle. He assured me he was. This time, he needed to pay me in June/July. My mom had told me to put him on a payment plan for the $500 - she explained that not everyone can come up with such a sum - some people live check to check. I know this - I've been one of them! I felt as though I had been insensitive all this time, although I knew he himself had said he would pay me in a lump sum. I told him he could pay along, because I just wanted him to give me something, ANYTHING toward the price of the car, even if it was $20. Please, I thought, PLEASE show me that you WANT IT! He declined and said he would pay me the 2 months. I said ok, but I know now that subconsciously, I stopped believing.
June came. Nothing. I didnt expect anything. I lay awake nights contemplating how to extricate myself from this situation with my friends.
June almost went when he came to me. I could have prophesied what came next before it happened: he didnt have the money. Not a dime. This time, he was going to pay me the entire fee in July. I didnt believe him. I'm not sure he believed himself. I said ok with my mouth, but I know my eyes showed nothing but disappointment and disillusionment. I knew it. He knew it.
July came. Nothing. I expected nothing. His wife is pregnant now, and I know there's no money coming to me. I'm to the point where I am beyond altruism - altruism is dead. Un-angry, I still lay awake at night wishing for an opportunity - ANY opportunity to take back my truck. Because that little voice inside that has constantly told me that when people want something bad enough, they do what they have to do to have it - I've been listening to that voice for months now.
So. Last week I received a random phone call from him with a voice message informing me (1) he will need to pay me in August because he got a new job that pays more, but that he needs to take several classes this month for the job, and so the car money is for the classes, (2) that my car is being ticketed and (3) is scheduled to be towed on July 21. I am told that my registration is expired (the tone in his voice tells me its my fault, although I made it perfectly clear IN MARCH that I expected him to take care of this since we "sold" the car to them then), the police department is being unfair to him by incessantly ticketing him, and that the car needs to be garaged until he finishes his classes, has the title in his name, and is able to take care of this. Oh. And he is willing to work with me on this.
I almost blew my stack. This car is still titled in my name and he is in a standoff with the police department over it?? HE is willing to work with ME? OMG. O.M.G. When I finally called him back we played phone tag, but when we talked I refused to offer my garage, because I wanted this man-child to physically fix his lips and ASK .....(omg, wait for it....) ME for something. After several long silences, he did, and only after I agreed to find him the title to truck and sign it over to him when he brought the truck back. I agreed because I knew, deep down, that once that truck is in my garage it is NEVER coming out. I wanted him to bring the truck over that day (he doesnt work in the summer, so he has the time) - he made some vague excuses as to why it had to be DAYS later.
Do you know I was at home ALL DAY that day, and he never once called, nor came by the house with my truck? I was on fire. FIRE! I refused to contact him for days, because I knew I would go too far. So. He called me this morning and asked when I wanted it brought over. I told him I had no idea whether I'd be home, and if I wasnt home, to park it in my driveway and leave the keys in the car. However, I waited at home today ALL DAY, and he never came by. Finally, at 9:30pm, I had enough and I called him. He told me he was on his way. HOURS passed. Finally, my mom calls me and tells me she saw the truck parked in my driveway.
I, understandably, was furious. He knew I was home because my other car was parked in the driveway. I cannot believe he did not even have the guts to face me, or the decency to give me a courtesy call to let me know he had dropped the car off. Then my mom came to look at the trucj, and it got WORSE! I was so mad I wasnt even going to go outside, but she went to move the truck into the garage - the HORRID ENGINE noise I heard at 12midnight was enought to wake the entire block. When I came outside I realized that it was MY truck making that beater car noise. At that moment, on the inside, I cried like a little girl. On the outside, I lashed out at my mother to turn it off. It got worse. Once I got back inside, I looked at the various items my mother had taken from the truck when she was inside.
Yes. My good old buddy had left me several little presents called PARKING TICKETS, and a towing notice with a hearing date. Contrary to his assertion that the police are messing with him for not moving the truck, the tickets have apparently been sitting on the windshield so long, that they are now washed out with various rains. My God. And the police are messing with HIM? Give me a break! The parking tickets are $10 if paid on time!!!! I've paid city parking tickets of $50-$70 a pop, and that was when I was a poor broke college student. If this guy is afraid of $10, there is NO way he's going to pay me $500, or even pop the $150 it would have taken him to pay for the muffler he said he would fix.
To top it all off, my mom mentioned that she heard him talking to someone about how he was experiencing the niceties of having money - of being able to at any time go to your bank account and pull out $500 to pay for something. The sad part is that I remember him saying it.
And so. Many moons, disappointment and disillusionment later I have decided that I will *never* find my title for him. If he never mentions it to me again, I'm ok with that - in fact I hope he doesnt. If he does, I think I'll find the courage to say no, or at the very least, hand him an itemized list of fees and require them all to be paid upfront. But. Truth be told? As my battered and sorely abused baby hulks silently in the dark of my garage, she knows, and I know that as much hurting as I have subjected her to, I would never have abused her this way. We have been through so much together, even this, and I know now, more than ever that even in the wide shadow of my Touareg, she still holds value to me.
Am I the only id-jit on these forums?
Oh wait. You have no idea what I'm talking about do you? Do let me share. In what universe do I live? It must be the universe where I am walking around with a sticker on my forehead that says, "Take Advantage of Me." Do let's start at the beginning. You see, "In The Beginning" (which was in March 2008), I decided to lend a guy my Tacoma pick-up truck. But its far deeper than that. This truck, while I admit is kind of hick and strange for a girl, was my very first vehicle bought in college and I paid it off with sweat and blood, ok? I moved a lot, and I seriously and always appreciated my vehicle. Also, I beat the crap out of that thing and it never complained or stopped running (When I say "beat the crap," I DO mean beat the crap - consider I have never had the suggested maintenance at the required intervals. Not once. Only frequent oil changes - fully synthetic when I became a card-carrying contributor to society (read: a job after school) - and necessary maintenance when needed).
Over the last few years, I became a vehicle masochist - when I came back from Florida, I discovered I had no heat anymore (Oh God!), and refused to have the heater core replaced. Why replace the heater core for hundreds when you can wear a scarf, gloves, and a hat? Then my sister, who had no car at the time, parked the truck in a bad neighborhood (where the train was at) when I was out of town for weeks on business, and the window was broken and the shiny new CD player I had installed was ripped out of the dash. She was filled with remorse and replaced the window posthaste. She tried and tried to get me to let her replace the radio/CD. I refused to replace it on principle - I had just paid several hundred to have it installed! In retrospect, I admit now that my silence in the face of her continued attempts to get me to let her have it reinstalled was nothing more than absolute, inexpressable fury - but that's another story for another day. People began to ask me why I didnt fix my truck. It wasnt about the money - I had money. They didnt understand that. Neither did I.
Then, in my more recent adult and settled life, the wandering girl with a pickup beat to kingdom come became a thing of the past, and yes: somewhere in there I, too, wondered why I was punishing myself - so, all in the name of responsible adulthood, admission that I was freezing and wanted music to accompany me on the long commute each day and willingness to have a backseat, I upgraded to what I think is a honey of an SUV. My parents died and went to heaven.
So. As my Tacoma languished in my garage, I considered selling it or giving it away - if for nothing more than that it pained me to see it suffer tire-rot over the months. At the very last, I was willing to give it away, simply because I would rather see someone - anyone - get good years out of it rather that have it die a slow, inauspicious death in the dark corner of my garage.
Ok. So BAM! Out nowhere I discover that a family that I know very well and love very dearly are having car trouble. They have several children, an at home mom, and 1 family van that is broken down and in the shop. They are by no means made of money - I admit I probably make more as a single girl than the dad makes for the entire family. The very night after I'm wondering what to do about the truck, I happen to have a conversation with my mom about the Dad - she has no idea how I feel about my truck at this point. She saw the guy walking to an engagement in the morning, crying his eyes out. He had a hat on and had no idea anyone saw him (it is a quiet neighborhood). After this, she started giving him rides when she saw him on the street - and she was commenting to me about the state of their transportation, and how that he was distressed because he worked over 1 hour away, had no way to get to work, and had no way to get his children to school (come to find out they had missed several days of school because of this).
This ripped my heart out because men crying - I mean really crying and for reasons I consider justified - is heartbreaking to me. So, even though it was already almost midnight, I had an epiphany: they could use my truck until their van was fixed! Content that this was the right thing to do, I hopped into the truck, my mom and sister trailing me in my Volkswagen, and we hightailed it over to their house. We met them at their house and they were so happy. We were so happy. Everyone was so happy! This. This, my friend, was probably the most, and the only rewarding experience of this entire interchange.
Now. Admist all this happiness, we talked potential sale of the truck to them, and in that very moment, in MARCH, amidst and in spite of my protestations, I was promised $500 to buy the truck from me in April, regardless of whether they got their van back, with monthly installments thereafter. I didnt want us to get ahead of ourselves: the businesswoman in me and my integrity felt it my duty to list to them the litany of defects with the truck, including the fact that it came over with a failing tire. I begged them not to feel obligated to buy it from me. I repeatedly explained that I would not be spending another PENNY to fix up the truck, and that it was "AS IS." I practically made them promise to just use the truck for now while their van was being fixed as a trial period to see all the problems with it, and to consider for certain whether they really wanted to buy it. If once their van was fixed they felt it too damaged to purchase (this is me assuming they may not have wanted to spend the money to make the cosmetic repairs), they could just return it. No harm, no foul.
Foul! Because they were my friends, and my elders in age, I did not make them sign any paperwork with me. Oh, how I regretted that decision over the many long months to follow, because thus began my long and torturous affair over MY property.
In the first week they had the truck, they came to me and assured me they wanted it, assured me that they would pay me $500 down in April, and told me that we should agree on a final price so they would know how much they needed to pay thereafter in monthly installments. I tossed. I turned. I grappled. I knew their financial situation, and I didnt want to make money off of them or break them financially. All my family said to charge the full price. After many hours in consideration, I decided that being done with the deal was more important to both me and them, and that it was more important that spend their money to make the repairs. I told them that they could just give me the $500 in April, and we could call it an even sale.
Smiles all around, right? Wrong!
April came. Nothing. I spent many days bewildered wondering when they were going to approach me about the money. Did I mention I see them 3 times per week?
April almost went. Finally, in the closing days of the month the Dad approached me. I cannot tell you the relief I felt. Until he spoke. Apparently, he would not have the money until May. In addition to THAT, he wanted to know if he could break it into two payments in May and June. In addition to THAT, he informed me that his wife told him that he HAD to tell me that he had parked my car in a bad neighborhood, and bottom line, someone had tried to steal the catalytic converter - they had not been succesful, but they had damaged the car in the process. You cannot know how I felt. First, disturbed that it was only mentioned to me because his wife made him. Second, seriously concerned, because by his tone I felt it implied that I was supposed to pay to get it fixed. In the nicest way possible, I reminded him that I had no intention of putting any money in the truck, and that I wondered if he was going to fix the damage, and that he could return it immediately, if he was no longer interested in purchasing the vehicle. He assured me he still wanted it, and that he would pay for all repairs (since the car was still technically MINE - but I got no date certain on when it would be fixed).
Do I need to remind anyone that I lost my job on April 1? Its not that I dont have money in the bank, but there is a principal here - they KNEW I was unemployed. I said ok to all these things, but the entire conversation unsettled me.
May came. Nothing. His wife began avoiding me without being mean about it. I was confused at first, then I realized her behaviour was borne of shame. A sense of foreboding fell over me.
May almost went, when I was approached by the husband. Again, money issues. Because he is my friend, and I looked up to him, I quelled the "freak out!" that rose up in me. I assured him that I was willing to sell the vehicle, if he was willing to buy the vehicle. He assured me he was. This time, he needed to pay me in June/July. My mom had told me to put him on a payment plan for the $500 - she explained that not everyone can come up with such a sum - some people live check to check. I know this - I've been one of them! I felt as though I had been insensitive all this time, although I knew he himself had said he would pay me in a lump sum. I told him he could pay along, because I just wanted him to give me something, ANYTHING toward the price of the car, even if it was $20. Please, I thought, PLEASE show me that you WANT IT! He declined and said he would pay me the 2 months. I said ok, but I know now that subconsciously, I stopped believing.
June came. Nothing. I didnt expect anything. I lay awake nights contemplating how to extricate myself from this situation with my friends.
June almost went when he came to me. I could have prophesied what came next before it happened: he didnt have the money. Not a dime. This time, he was going to pay me the entire fee in July. I didnt believe him. I'm not sure he believed himself. I said ok with my mouth, but I know my eyes showed nothing but disappointment and disillusionment. I knew it. He knew it.
July came. Nothing. I expected nothing. His wife is pregnant now, and I know there's no money coming to me. I'm to the point where I am beyond altruism - altruism is dead. Un-angry, I still lay awake at night wishing for an opportunity - ANY opportunity to take back my truck. Because that little voice inside that has constantly told me that when people want something bad enough, they do what they have to do to have it - I've been listening to that voice for months now.
So. Last week I received a random phone call from him with a voice message informing me (1) he will need to pay me in August because he got a new job that pays more, but that he needs to take several classes this month for the job, and so the car money is for the classes, (2) that my car is being ticketed and (3) is scheduled to be towed on July 21. I am told that my registration is expired (the tone in his voice tells me its my fault, although I made it perfectly clear IN MARCH that I expected him to take care of this since we "sold" the car to them then), the police department is being unfair to him by incessantly ticketing him, and that the car needs to be garaged until he finishes his classes, has the title in his name, and is able to take care of this. Oh. And he is willing to work with me on this.
I almost blew my stack. This car is still titled in my name and he is in a standoff with the police department over it?? HE is willing to work with ME? OMG. O.M.G. When I finally called him back we played phone tag, but when we talked I refused to offer my garage, because I wanted this man-child to physically fix his lips and ASK .....(omg, wait for it....) ME for something. After several long silences, he did, and only after I agreed to find him the title to truck and sign it over to him when he brought the truck back. I agreed because I knew, deep down, that once that truck is in my garage it is NEVER coming out. I wanted him to bring the truck over that day (he doesnt work in the summer, so he has the time) - he made some vague excuses as to why it had to be DAYS later.
Do you know I was at home ALL DAY that day, and he never once called, nor came by the house with my truck? I was on fire. FIRE! I refused to contact him for days, because I knew I would go too far. So. He called me this morning and asked when I wanted it brought over. I told him I had no idea whether I'd be home, and if I wasnt home, to park it in my driveway and leave the keys in the car. However, I waited at home today ALL DAY, and he never came by. Finally, at 9:30pm, I had enough and I called him. He told me he was on his way. HOURS passed. Finally, my mom calls me and tells me she saw the truck parked in my driveway.
I, understandably, was furious. He knew I was home because my other car was parked in the driveway. I cannot believe he did not even have the guts to face me, or the decency to give me a courtesy call to let me know he had dropped the car off. Then my mom came to look at the trucj, and it got WORSE! I was so mad I wasnt even going to go outside, but she went to move the truck into the garage - the HORRID ENGINE noise I heard at 12midnight was enought to wake the entire block. When I came outside I realized that it was MY truck making that beater car noise. At that moment, on the inside, I cried like a little girl. On the outside, I lashed out at my mother to turn it off. It got worse. Once I got back inside, I looked at the various items my mother had taken from the truck when she was inside.
Yes. My good old buddy had left me several little presents called PARKING TICKETS, and a towing notice with a hearing date. Contrary to his assertion that the police are messing with him for not moving the truck, the tickets have apparently been sitting on the windshield so long, that they are now washed out with various rains. My God. And the police are messing with HIM? Give me a break! The parking tickets are $10 if paid on time!!!! I've paid city parking tickets of $50-$70 a pop, and that was when I was a poor broke college student. If this guy is afraid of $10, there is NO way he's going to pay me $500, or even pop the $150 it would have taken him to pay for the muffler he said he would fix.
To top it all off, my mom mentioned that she heard him talking to someone about how he was experiencing the niceties of having money - of being able to at any time go to your bank account and pull out $500 to pay for something. The sad part is that I remember him saying it.
And so. Many moons, disappointment and disillusionment later I have decided that I will *never* find my title for him. If he never mentions it to me again, I'm ok with that - in fact I hope he doesnt. If he does, I think I'll find the courage to say no, or at the very least, hand him an itemized list of fees and require them all to be paid upfront. But. Truth be told? As my battered and sorely abused baby hulks silently in the dark of my garage, she knows, and I know that as much hurting as I have subjected her to, I would never have abused her this way. We have been through so much together, even this, and I know now, more than ever that even in the wide shadow of my Touareg, she still holds value to me.
Am I the only id-jit on these forums?
__________________
something witty goes here......
something witty goes here......
Last edited by mack; 07-20-08 at 08:54 AM.
Good god. Where were you when I needed you?? Remind me in the future if anybody ever has to put the smackdown on me here that it just doesnt pay to be on your bad side. Jesus! 
). On really bad days, they accuse strong or successful women of being butch or gay.
that and the fact that I moved a lot. 
