The Former Traveling Spotlight

The tales of a "30" something gay former stand-up comic living in NYC who is searching for his soul mate or soul...which ever comes first.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Rage Stage

In 2003, my Ex (the mother of all Ex's) found this site and did a little reading. Now I always try to speak kindly of him, mainly because we still remain close friends. Our lives had only grown in different directions. We wanted different things, and being together was not an option any more. Very amicable.

But back in 2003, the Ex had gotten a bad case of poison ivy, and his doctor had put him on Prednisone, a steroid. This steroid turned my Ex into the raving bitch from hell, and it was while on this medication that he read one of my entries. He didn't take it well and felt that he was being portrayed in a negative view. A view so poor that he called me at my job, cursed me out, and hung the phone up before I could speak. My office coworkers could hear him screaming over the telephone, and advised me to let him cool down before calling him back.

I agreed, and after finishing work for the day, went to dinner with friends and then home to bed early. Strangely, around 11 pm that night, I work up and felt the need to look out my window. I looked down to the street to see my Ex getting out of his car carrying a few folders full of paper. At first I thought I was dreaming, as my Ex lived a little over 4 hours drive away, but he was quickly marching up to my front door, stepping over the fresh piles of snow that had fallen in the early Cleveland evening. Upon reaching my doorbell, he proceeded to repeatedly push the button until I could race downstairs and finally open the door.

Pushing his way into the house He threw the file folders at me. "These are some of your old papers I found!" he snipped as he walked into my kitchen, where he grabbed an unopened bag of tortila chips. He then yelled at me for a total of 10 minutes before announcing that he was going home, taking my bag of tortila chips with him.

He got home 4 hours later and apologized for his behavior, blaming it on a steroid rage. The big question...why am I thinking about this today?

Yesterday, I went to see my doctor for a follow-up visit. After going through his examination, he indicated that he wasn't pleased with my rate of healing (could it have anything to do with not being able to eat?). Therefore, he has placed me on injectible steroids for the next 6 weeks. I'm going to be taking the same steroids body builders illegally take (hmmm....do I foresee a profitable Christmas?). Of course, this does mean that I'm going to be the subject of extreme mood swings. I'm already a short tempered Irish man...this isn't going to be very pretty.

Should I call my Ex and warn him that Airfares to his home are only running around $250 or do I just surprise him. That fucker owes me a bag of tortila chips!

Patrick - 3:38 PM -

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