As many of you know, today is the one year anniversary of my friend Blythe’s breakup with her long time high school boyfriend. Let’s call him D. Phelps to protect his identity. No, that’s too easy to figure out. We’ll call him Daniel P. You can read about Blythe’s reaction here: Bee-Spot.
Frankly, the break up with Daniel might have been the best thing to ever happen to Blythe. Believe it or not, Daniel was a douche bag. Hardcore. Seriously, biggest douche to graduate an Oklahoma high school in 1999. Douchey. Now, Daniel and I go way back, like elementary school and gymnastics way back. Yeah, Daniel did competitive gymnastics in a teal leotard—I have pictures. We never really liked each other. Rather, I was nice and Daniel was a bitch and that failed to foster a healthy relationship. He was the kid who said shit like, “What’s wrong? You’re just upset because you took a piss out of your first pube.” Seriously, where did he get this material? By the time high school rolled around, I was in good company hating Daniel. He’d really stepped up his game and alienated most of the people who pretended to be his friends. However, our mutual hatred for one another was palpable. Blythe, being the fledgling masochist that she was at 16, decided she’d love to be verbally abused on a fulltime basis, and thus began dating Daniel (I was only available for part time abuse).
Blythe and I had developed a healthy working relationship in Yearbook class our freshman/sophomore year. Yes, yearbook, really. We won awards damn it. It was hot. Okay, so Blythe and I are friends, and maybe she had (has) a little residual crush on me (like most girls I went to high school with) even while she was dating Daniel. This fact was not lost on Daniel (to my delight). My senior year I made Blythe go with me to some random art lecture at OU. She lied to Daniel, telling him she was going to an SAT study session with Lacey. The next day he found the program from the lecture and confronted her. When she told Daniel that she was with me all night, he broke into tears. Yes, for the record, I made Daniel Phelps cry like a mother fucking baby. So congratulations Blythe, on the one year anniversary of your successful break up!
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9 comments:
I agree. Daniel is a total Douche Burger. Everyone in Chicago knows this.
upon your return to the homeland, i expect to see these photos you write of. then i expect to put them on facebook.
mmm. douche burger.
Daniel was precisely why, upon discovering my boyfriend (John) graduated from Dartmouth, I was very skeptical of John and all of his Dartmouth cronies. It took me a long time to get over it; it turns out they're mostly nice people. Daniel's influence is far-reaching, indeed.
carmen - ha! did they know each other? yeah, i think they are mostly nice people, as lone as they're not in one of the date rape frats.
Making people cry is a favorite activity of mine. Way to go
No, thank god. John doesn't know who Daniel is; he was most certainly not in a frat. Though he made a lot of good contacts and friends at Dartmouth, he didn't really like it very much.
i'll bet your good at it, julie.
i think the problem with d-mouth is that there's so little to do other than dork out, be in a frat, or live outdoors. it produces some weird kids. i'm glad yours made it out ok. i think i met your sister the other week. small towns.
I hope he doesn't know how to google his own name.
Oh wait. I hope he DOES!
shit - i think it's too late. i'm 95% sure someone ratted me out. now i feel kinda bad.
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