[From Album #1 – Dean Martin Sings (Dean Martin)]
The bathroom was occupied, I knocked on the door and a voice shot through, “What?” It was my brother.
“Hey, you almost out?” I screamed at the door.
“Yeah, hold on.”
“Cool, other people gotta use the bathroom.
I walked down the hall and she was standing there, towel and clothes in hand, ready to shower.
“He’s almost out.”
“I heard,” she said in what was the most annoyed tone I’d ever heard anybody speak in, “I guess you’re just not an alpha male.” She scoffed or made some kind of noise along those lines and walked away.
It caught me by surprise, I instinctively laughed and figured she was joking, turns out I have a habit of taking things as jokes when they’re not. I followed her laughing, she threw the things she was carrying on the bed and it started to don on me that maybe it wasn’t as much of a joke as I though.
“He’s almost out, babe, won’t take long and we’re ok on time.” We were going to a comedy show, how apt.
“Yeah, and the way you asked him I’m sure he’ll rush out now.” Now she was just being patronizing.
“What exactly did you want me to do? Bust down the door and drag him out?” We were just getting started.
“Maybe not be a fucking pushover.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean? Were you serious about that alpha male bullshit?” That was my last holdout, my last inclination that maybe we’d just burst into laughter and get on with our day the way we wanted it to.
“Well you’re not.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Not that I considered myself and alpha male, the idea of the alpha male is archaic and stupid, it bothered me that this actually meant something to her. This idea of an alpha male was something important to her, she wanted someone confrontational, seemingly, for the sake of being confrontational.
“All I know is that if we ever get into some shit, I’m going to have to jump in with you.”
“What the hell are you talking about? How is that even relevant and why would you honestly think that?”
“I don’t know if I can depend on you like that.”
In all, with all I heard her say the way she said it, I only took away the idea that she thought I was weak.
“Well sorry I’m not like the other guys you’ve been with who walked around like tough guys and shit, I bet they were real alpha males.”
“Yeah, some of them were.” Now she was just trying to be hurtful, she knew me right, so she didn’t have to try too hard, she knew what she was doing.
“You know what, fuck off, seriously, fuck off.” I lost it, I lose a lot, but not like that. I threw some stuff at the floor just because I was angry, I laid down on the bed and just wanted to go to sleep, I didn’t want to keep fighting or do anything. She laughed.
She laughed some more and I felt trapped and mad and stupid and justified. The laughing stopped and she was by the dresser, looking at her phone per usual. I figured that was the end of the night, we wouldn’t go anywhere, or at least I wouldn’t. She’d probably go hang out with one of her friends, which really just meant two options, some pretentious guy or another pretentious guy. They’d get tanked and I’d stay at home stewing.
“I don’t really feel like going anymore,” she told me with a plain serious tone, I guess the party was over.
“Whatever, I don’t care.”
“Are you going to sleep?”
“Leave me alone, babe.”
“Are you mad?” Some people just know what to ask.
“You know what – yeah, I am. I’m mad and leave me alone.”
Neither of us said anything after that. But I was still mad and I eventually thought, screw this. I got up, got the tickets to the show, my wallet, my phone, etcetera, and got the hell out of there.
“I’ll see you later.”
I paid for the damn tickets, and they weren’t cheap, so I was at least going to go. A bus arrived as soon as I got to the stop and I jumped on, still angry but at least I didn’t feel trapped anymore. She called me as soon as I got on.
“Where are you?”
“I’m on the bus to the station, I got lucky and one got here right away.”
“Well I was walking over to meet you at the stop.”
“You said you didn’t want to go.”
“Well I’m ready to go, so what are we going to do?”
I pulled the cord to get off at the next stop, “Fine, I’ll get off here and walk back, I’ll meet you in ten minutes.” That’s how long it would take me to walk there.
I got off and we stayed on the phone, I explained to her why I was mad. I told her that I took all of that as her calling me weak and that I didn’t peg her as a person who validated the idea of an alpha male and much less that she would desire someone like that. She said she felt bad for having insulted me, she didn’t apologize or take any of it back, she just felt bad that I got offended by it. I guess I didn’t expect her to apologize or recant, just wasn’t the way she was or wanted to be, didn’t matter what that meant in the endgame. I took what I could get, or what I could stand, probably not in my top five best ideas.
We met up and went to the show, she broke up with me the next day. She took a bottle, I hadn’t eaten since the morning and got black out drunk. I left the theater where the show was more or less ok, but we got into a fight at some diner, I walked out and left her there. I ordered a ride home and just left her there. She eventually got home and I lost it again, at least from what I’m told, and I don’t doubt it. I called her a bitch repeatedly, in person and in drunken voicemails, I was verbally abusive and a general piece of shit. Maybe it was the fight earlier that day, and all the other crap she pinned on me over the last months or however long it’d been, maybe I couldn’t stand it much more. It didn’t really matter what it was, because whatever it was that got me to treat her that way, it wasn’t an excuse, it wasn’t justified, I was just ashamed.
I woke up alone, she had left the previous night, I was hungover. My phone was on the floor, I left it charging, how responsible of me. I checked my text messages and calls, not many text messages but I’d called her at least seven times, and called wrong number at least three times. I sat up on the bed, relieved that not everything was hurting, and I started to beg.