My ex's mission accomplished- I'm so down that even blues legends feel bad for me.

You have done your job. I am officially now so far down that blues legend B.B. King feels bad for me.
Not to re-hash, but the simple story is that I have been dumped, taken back, and been dumped again by a young woman whose parents have called me (and I quote) “a low-class loser with no prospects,” among other things. Twice have they ordered her to dump me, and twice has she done so, the most recent time this past July.

So my birthday rolls around this past weekend, and I spend it on Cape Cod (for no other reason than I had paid for the trip back in May, intending to take it with her). And things are going swimmingly until I check my e-mail the next day.

Two lines. From her. Sent at 2AM.

“happy birthday. i love you.”

Sweet Jesus (insert well-worn “if you loved me, you’d be with me” rant here).

Day after that: another email containing all her contact info, sent to a group from which she had “forgotten” to remove me.

So I’ve had enough. I e-mail her back, saying, in a nutshell, “You need to stop doing this. You are hurting me and you certainly aren’t helping your own sanity by doing this. So pay more attention to my feelings and leave me alone until you’re ready to talk to me like an adult.”

Her response is nothing but the usual parade of “I’m sorry,” and hesitant affection she uses when she’s resigning herself to following orders, and the altogether unshocking revalation that she was drunk when she sent the birthday greeting. My return e-mail says, “We agreed you can call me in January. But only call if we can actually have conversations that go somewhere.”

Off I go to Wellfleet to have dinner with some friends. Back I get to Hyannis at around 11:30, and there’s a big ol’ tour bus parked in front of my hotel and a couple of people hanging around. Turns out, it’s B.B. King’s bus. So I wait patiently for about 20 minutes to meet this blues legend, who’s lived so long and seen so much pain that grown men weep when he plays.

And B.B. comes off the bus, and spends a little time with those few of us that are out there. And he asks me what my story is. I tell him he doesn’t want to know.

He says, “Try me.”

So I give him the short version, filling in some blanks when he asks.

End of the story, he looks at me, shakes his head, and says, “Boy, you underSTAND the BLUES.”

I say, “Damn straight I do, Mr. King,” and light my cigarette.

He laughs and moves on.

Sorry about your lovelife travails – but at least you got to meet B.B. King. Better than having your life suck and not meeting B.B. King – right?

That may well be. I don’t know you from Adam. But I’d say you got a good deal more prospects now that she’s outta the picture. (Make sure to keep her out of the picture, kay? You don’t need that crap.)

Plus, you got to shoot the shit with B.B. B.B.!! You rock.

You are so lucky to have B.B. King feel bad for you.
Wow, what a back-handed compliment I posted. You know what I mean.
And hey, at least she didn’t trash your credit rating along the way.

Maybe someday you’ll consider the whole thing worth it, just for the B.B King story to tell people.

I think that level of heartache is sooo worth being able to have that story. Just imagine the flipside - hanging outside of your apartment with a smile on your face and a can-do attitude, B.B. King comes up to you and says, “you people make me sick” and spits on you.

Yup, I’d rather have a blues legend confirm my blues understanding ability. Second only to the Lama giving you complete consciousness on your deathbed.

And when you retell the story, make sure you add in the requisite: “So I got that going for me, which is nice” at the end.

I’m sorry for the way your situation has gone. I’m envious that you got to meet BB King! And even though I know you don’t feel much like laughing now, I’m going to post this in the hope that you might at least crack a smile.

Cleveland Delta Blues (by Martin Mull)
(played on a toy ukelele, with a baby bottle for a slide)

I woke up this afternoon
And found both cars were gone
I woke up this afternoon, lord mommy,
And found both cars were gone
Well I felt so lowdown deep inside
I threw my drink across the lawn.

Damn, I’d date you just for having such a cool story. Well, you know, if I wasn’t married and we weren’t strangers and all. :smiley:

You’re doing the right thing in cutting off contact with your ex for the foreseeable future.

I thought for sure that the title of the thread was hyperbole, but I’m delighted to be proved wrong. Thanks for sharing the story, HSHP.

*proven wrong. Gah! Sorry.

Wow. I’m another one who thought that your post’s title was hyperbole. I’m sorry you’re going through such heartache, but the B.B. King part is pretty awesome.

Actually, I went through my own heartache just a few days ago. Now at least I can comfort myself with the thought that BB King might feel sorry for me too if I were to run into him somehow. :smiley: Heh, thanks.

[sub] Technically, the title does say blues legends, plural…[/sub]

My thoughts exactly.

Now, I shot pool against James Brown once, but he didn’t tell me I understood the music or anything like that. He just cleaned me out of my eight dollars and left the pool hall to go sing somewhere. Didn’t even give me a free pass to where he was performing. Maybe the fact that I was 14 and he was singin’ in a nightclub had something to do with that…

That’s an awesome story. I mean, it’s terrible. But it’s awesome.

Holy crap.

That’s the coolest story ever.

It’s pretty damn flattering, I’ve got to tell you. I just wish that I didn’t need to have spent the entire months of January and July drinking myself into the ER (from which I have just returned) in order to get such a compliment.

But hey, I guess that’s why they call it “payin’ your dues.”

I take the LSAT on October 2. On October 3, I’m gonna buy myself a harmonica and see if I can’t make a song out of all this.

I’m gonna buy myself a harmonica and see if I can’t make a song out of all this.

“Dad, these tired bones may be locked behind prison walls, but when I play this rusty old harp my soul flies, free as a bird.” - Daria (The Big House)
Yeah my woman left me
She said goodbye
She walked out the door
And left me to cry
See her parents are crazy

There, I’ve got you started, albeit badly. :wink:

Quite the story! But it’s difficult to focus on your pain, because ever since this thread yesterday, every time I see your name this image comes to mind.

Congratulations, man; that’s the best story ever.

I have to admit that after reading your other threads, I was worried that you were just going to keep falling back into the same old thing. Good for you for standing up against it and not letting her stuff work on you. Sounds to me like you handled that bit perfectly.

Sorry you had to go through such a rough spot, but hey, B.B. King don’t lie.

That story sounds like the end of a romantic comedy. Yknow, where your character has an obsession with BB King, you’ve loved him your whole life, and then OMG OMG there he is! And he understands you! And it’s the coolest thing ever! And violins you realize you don’t need the girl. Because you’ve got (or soon will have) your harmonica. And smokes. And a quirky best buddy or a dog or something.

Too bad you can’t come to the NY Dopefest now! :smiley: