The "T"

The "T"

Folks, the moment we've all been waiting for has arrived.  She herself has contacted me from on high to let me know exactly what she thinks of me. Not much has changed. 

I've been sitting in the dark and cold for 4 days in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy; my heart goes out to those still dealing with the effects of this crazy storm, it's definitely not over for a lot of people and I could have had it a lot worse.  

However, in the middle of dealing with the fallout from one hurricane, I was faced with a different kind of storm; one I'll call Shitstorm Heather.  Wednesday night, upon returning to my pitch black apartment in lower Manhattan, I noticed that my newly charged cell phone was blowing up; after two years and five months, Heather was reaching out to me. Here's the first screen capture; try not to be moved to tears:

Isn't she the sweetest thing?  As you can see, this person is, in fact, real. Real in a living, breathing, walking the Earth sense; definitely not in a sincere, trustworthy, practices what she preaches sense. This 42-year-old woman operates on the level of a not too bright, albeit moderately well-read 14-year-old girl.  You see, the reason she very maturely mentioned my hair is that she thinks my title has something to do with her actual hair.  I actually used to temper my opinions based on things that this person said.  

I said "I have no idea what you're talking about." in reference to her "misery" assertion. This is a person that literally tells people she's just met how fabulous her life is.  How could she possibly be miserable? And as far as my comment about wishing her well; I do, in fact, not wish her harm which I'm pretty sure is the same thing. Next ball up:

To be fair, I have written about those things, they're just not up yet. Also to be fair, don't text while you're in a blackout during a blackout.

This is my favorite Heather. The Heather who, when confronted with her own behavior, turns on the person confronting her and tries to make him or her feel that they've done something wrong. I'm not going to lie, this used to be super effective on me.  I fell for this one every time. P.S. I never once during that conversation said I wasn't writing this blog. Keep up, bitch. Oh, and she's about to get nasty:

                                  

At this point, she accused me of being crazy, which, I mean, come on... once again, keep up, bitch.  Also, I hope her glass house investment pays off.  She also started calling me, which was never an option that was on the table.  I don't know where she got the notion that I was picking up the phone to talk to her after 11pm in the middle of a blackout. I also stopped responding because, a.) there was nothing to say to any of this.  One thing I definitely do not do anymore is entertain ridiculous people like this. I made an exception by responding to this foolishness because it was Halloween and I was bored. b.) she was doing just fine without me. And c.) bitch wasn't worth the battery power. Final ball up:

Well that about says it all, doesn't it?  Listen people, I may be angry. Who am I kidding? I'm angry.  I thought I had made that plainly obvious.  Everybody has a different way of dealing with their anger.  Some people climb tall mountains. Some people crochet.  Some people buy a business, then mismanage it, blame their employees, and sit around drinking Chardonnay in the dark while texting people they really shouldn't.  I write.  I always feel better after I do it and there's no hangover the next day.  

As far as Heather being a made up caricature, you have it from the horse's mouth, folks, she's not.  I have been warned that by writing her as she actually is, she couldn't possibly come off as real.  Well based on that final, extremely childish remark about my first boss (whose name has been distorted for everyone's protection), you can see that this person does, in fact, behave this way. And I worked for her for eight years.

Eight years that I spent trusting, idolizing, and emulating someone who used to treat me vastly worse than these texts reveal. 

As for me being pathetic; jury's still out.  I might be. But I'm pretty sure I'm not.  I'm writing this because I think there are a lot of people like me in the world. Narcissistic? Possibly, but if I'm right, then there are people who need to know that they don't need to dim their own light because of a Heather.  There will always be Heathers in the world; people who need to be surrounded by "D-pluses" so that their "C-minus" looks like an "A." The danger is that when they encounter an "A" who tries to deal with them, they start to break that "A" down and make it feel like an "F." All you need to do is look above to see what I'm talking about.  

Finally, I'm not out to change anyone's life here.  It sounded like that just now, didn't it? Make no mistake, this is a fucking blog; the most self-centered outlet known to man. Except maybe Twitter (follow me @jaybrancatonyc).  I'm just telling my story, whether anyone reads it or not.  And why, exactly, should I not have a platform to do so?  Is my story less compelling than the Kardashians'? Honey Boo Boo? Snooki? So, in reference to the above texts, my motivation for writing this (and believe me when I say, I am NOT addressing this ever again or, so help me, I will turn this car around...), and my reason for putting it out as a blog; IT'S ABOUT ME, BITCH. YOU are a character in MY story.  boom.