This picture has nothing to do with the following post, it's a picture I will take the next day when I visit Old Gaochun Street with Peter. When I saw this fish, I asked if that was the fishes real tongue. He said no, it was a pepper. I feel this was a good metaphor for the next blog post, plus I don't like creating a post with no picture.
I think it's time for me to explain why I decided to move to China. About 3 and 1/2 months ago I was hit by a firetruck. I've been told to say I was rear ended by a fire truck, but its much less fun. Plus, rear ended sounds like defecating. Anyway, my car was destroyed by a fire truck and I was in a neck brace for a few weeks. Also, the semester had just ended and, as a substitute teacher, I was out of a job. After the accident, I was feeling sorry for myself and not applying for jobs as actively as I should off.
A few weeks after, while I still had my brace on, my girlfriend of the last 5 months dumped me. A week earlier I had told her I loved her. She said for the last month she had felt like she had been lying to me and hadn't felt anything at all. I was heartbroken, to say the least.
For her privacy, I am going to refer to her as Mitchell for the rest of my blog. That way, the only person who knows who I'm talking about will be her, and she's probably not reading this blog. At least, I hope she is not reading this blog, because these posts will be pretty embarrassing if she is. I also sort of hope she is reading this blog because that means maybe she does love me. Just kidding, I know she doesn't.
After my break up, I decided the only way to win her back was to get a really good job so I started applying for everything. (There was no way I was going to win her back.) I had an interview as a writer's pa that ultimately went nowhere; the only jobs that had any interest in me were teaching abroad jobs in China. So now I'm in China.
That night, after finding out that I was for sure only teaching drama, I went back to my hotel room and Instagram stalked Mitchell. I know, terrible idea, but its what happened. I noticed multiple photos taken with one guy, some right before we started dating and some right after we stopped. Mitchell had blocked me from seeing her instagram stories right after we broke up so I have no idea how many of those he was in. I decided to click on this guys instagram and look through his photos too. Mitchell was in lots of them, and she had liked almost every single one of his posts.
While we dated, Mitchell never once put me on her instagram or liked one of my posts. Not that I really use or look at instagram much, but still. This hurt. I became convinced that this guy was Mitchell's ex and that now she was back together with him. I was just some stupid fuck boy she had on the side while she tried to make things work with this asshole. Mitchell never talked about any of her exs, even though I had asked and talked about some of mine. At first I thought she was private, now I think she was hiding.
I obsessed over this all night. I replayed our break up and old conversations in my head as I looked for clues again for why this happened. I dredged up all this old pain that I hoped I would have moved past a long time ago. Mitchell broke up with me three months ago, over half the time we actually dated. I obviously didn't mean to her what she meant to me, but I couldn't move on.
I awoke in the middle of the night to a nightmare. I don't remember the whole thing, I just remember hearing moaning coming from a bathroom. I forced open the door and saw Mitchell on her knees, moving her head and her big black curly hair back and forth in a blowjob giving motion. There was no man, and I couldn't see her voice, but I could hear a disembodied voice screaming, "This is my fantasy! This is a dream come true!"
I was not able to fall back asleep. I felt like my tongue had been removed and in it's place was a hot pepper.
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