Well, it appears that {D} has lawyered up. I got an email from his attorney — she went to fucking Boyd. Boyd! {D} is so broke he had to go that low. This is the same guy who shit-talked Boyd for years, and now it’s his lifeline? That’s almost as funny as pretending you still have standards after your second termination. My how the mighty have fallen, Yale to Boyd. How’s the 401k, {D}?
She’s an employment attorney though, which means my money is on {D} gearing up to sue Nevada for wrongful termination. Classic move. My suit just gets absorbed into whatever mess that becomes, like a free rider. Oh well. Guess I get to argue a motion to dismiss all by myself. Can’t wait. Really wish I had gone to law school. Hell, at this point I’d settle for a paralegal certificate off of Groupon.
And because I’m me, I sent her my complaint per her request. And the video. Figured she might be interested in that little cinematic masterpiece. Pretty sure {D} doesn’t have a copy anymore. What does he have, really? I lost a whole chunk of texts from July 4–22, 2024, because I panicked and deleted WhatsApp. Didn’t realize that meant actually deleting it. Genius move. Of course I went back. Couldn’t walk away.
That was the story with us: I couldn’t walk away, and he knew it. He’d keep me under control by popping in, then vanishing, then popping back in. He’d check WhatsApp like he was clocking in for a job — sometimes once an hour. Our entire “relationship” was just digital peekaboo.
I always said he was a cat. Wants the love, attention, and food bowl filled, but then growls, hisses, and pretends to be above it all. He even had a cat, Oz, who was allegedly an asshole. He went to the shelter and said, “Give me the meanest one you’ve got.” Which is very on-brand, by the way. I met Oz. He wasn’t so bad. He let me pet him. Seemed chill. But then again, cats like to keep you guessing — must run in the family.
I saw {D} days after he put Oz down, and he was shaken. For a guy who claims he doesn’t feel emotions, he was gutted. And so, of course, he came to me. Because the truth is, I understood him too. I always saw through him — the insecurities, the ego, the pride, the weird joy, the self-doubt. I saw it all. And that pisses me off because I wish I hadn’t. I wish I could hate him cleanly. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if he was just “rapist” and nothing else.
But no, my brain has to go off-script. Now I catch myself worrying about him again. Wondering if he’s got a job, wondering if he’s okay. Wondering what comes after Boyd. DeVry Law School? Phoenix Online? Is there a Scratch-and-Dent section for lawyers somewhere?
And yeah, I’m having that moment again — missing my best friend/rapist. Try explaining that one at therapy. “Oh, you miss him? The guy who raped you on video while you begged him to stop?” Yeah. That guy. My therapist needs a raise.
Why did any of this have to happen — the rape, the relationship, the police, the video, the counterterrorism unit, the social media circus, the whole motherfucking enchilada? Why couldn’t this have been settled like normal humans do?
Oh wait. Because getting raped on video while you scream isn’t “normal.” Right. Forgot about that part. Silly me.
But hey — at least now I know Boyd really will take anybody might head to law school yet.
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