Once
upon a time during my sophomore year of high school, I dumped a girl. It ended
quite badly with many tears and a lot of screaming. Through her, I had met a gentleman involved with the theatre program in one of our local high schools. For the sake of his
privacy, I will call him Mr. B. (After all, B can stand for many things; for
example B could stand for Bitch or maybe Butthole. It would fill my heart with
petty joy to imagine you beautiful blog-reading darlings calling this guy Mr.
Butthole, but I’ll stick to Mr. B for short.) The two of them were very close,
close enough that he actually invited us to his wedding. A few weeks after our
dramatic parting, I contacted via Facebook message him inquiring about a
possible performance we had discussed putting together. I had assumed that this
adult man old enough to be my father would be mature enough to handle a break
up he wasn’t even a part of. He quickly showed me how wrong I was; W-O-R-N-G,
wrong!
SC: Hey, Mr. B. I hope your honeymoon was fun. I was hoping
we could talk a little more about the possibility of bringing the high schools
together for that show when you have time. Thanks. :)
Mr. B: You’ve got a lot of nerve messaging me.
*silence*
Mr. B: If you think I’d ever work with you after what you
did to Ex-Girlfriend, you’re even dumber than you look!
SC: I’m sorry if I’ve put you in an uncomfortable situation
by breaking up with Ex-Girlfriend, Mr. B, but there are two sides to everything…It
wasn’t working between us. We’re only in high school. I don’t really think it’s
a big enough deal to not pursue uniting the local students in a production.
Mr. B: Fuck you, you stupid bitch! I’ll never let you be in
any theatre production of mine!
SC: Okay, bye.
Mr. B: And just so you know, Ex-Girlfriend and I have
discussed it and we decided if you were in Harry Potter, you would be Lord
Voldemort because you’re so evil!
*As a
huge Harry Potter fan and a Hufflepuff, I was honestly horribly offended.*
SC: What the hell, B? Are you not an adult teacher old enough
to be my father? Grow up!
SC: AND FOR THE RECORD, I AM A HUFFLEPUFF!
Mr. B: You wish you were a Hufflepuff! They’re honest and
you’re a filthy liar! You swore you’d love her forever! *I was sixteen and she
was fourteen.* You broke her heart! You’re Lord Voldemort, and we decided I am
Professor Dumbledore and Ex-Girlfriend is Harry Potter so fuck you! We will
vanquish your evil!
SC: As IF you could ever even aspire to be anything like
Professor Dumbledore! You’re being super immature right now, B! Are you kidding
me?
Mr. B: WHATEVER, VOLDEMORT. I DON’T BELIEVE IN YOUR EVIL
WAYS.
SC: Fuck you, B. I’m Ginny Weasley. I’m ALWAYS Ginny
Weasley!
That’s
about the time I blocked Mr. B(utthole). I have to confess, I have scarcely
ever been so insulted in my entire life (in the moment anyway). After unloading
my frustration onto a couple of good friends, I was able to find the humor in
it. For seven years after, I used the screen name Voldemort and always ordered
take-out under the name Voldemort. (For the record, I’m definitely not
Voldemort, but it gave me a laugh. Every once in a while a funny person would
get the joke. Usually at Starbucks.) Thanks for being so childish, Mr. B! You
filled my life with petty humor. I hope you get a box of Bernie Bott’s Every
Flavour Beans with NOTHING but vomit flavour inside!
(I feel like adding the lack of nose just makes me look like Voldemort and Squidward had a really surprisingly eccentric baby.)
