Coming out of the Closet

It was Mexican Independence day and Crazy and I had been split for about five months. Ironic that it was Mexican Independence day because in this story involves one Mexican who was stuck in a closet, another who was stuck in his own stupidity, and a third was trapped between the two. Some background: my ex boyfriend is half Mexican and the boy I was casually dating is also half Mexican. Apparently I have a type.

Boy I had casually been dating and I (let's call him Chef, he'll appear later), had gone to the Capitol to watch the Mexican Independence day events. It was warm outside and a fairly nice night though I kept a watchful eye in case Crazy was leering about. At this point, he wasn't. It was a Wednesday and while Chef and I went back to my place for the obligatory hook-up, I had no interest in sharing my bed with someone who would awkwardly try to snuggle when all I wanted was to go to bed. So, said hook-up commenced and at a fairly decent hour, ended. While clothing was being fastened and rearranged, the doorbell rang. Mind you, at this point we're talking Midnight on a Wednesday. And despite my readiness to explore what monogamy had been depriving me of, I do not typically have random company coming over at all hours of the night.

Back to the story. As Chef buttoned clothing, I ran to the door to check who was there. Of course, it was Crazy. Like a crazy person myself, I ran back to Chef and told him that Crazy was at the door, that I had no idea why he was there, and hey, would you mind hiding in the closet while I figure out what Crazy wants? This all seemed like a good idea at the time. Luckily, Chef thought so too and promptly ran into the closet, clothes in hand. I ran back to the door and let Crazy in. Crazy asked to use the bathroom and confused, I said yes. While Crazy spent fifteen minutes in the restroom (wtf?) I ran back and asked Chef to stay put. He did. Meanwhile, I ran back and waited for Crazy to emerge. After Crazy came out, it was evident that Crazy was not only crazy, but also very very drunk. Crazy then went on a twenty minute rant about how he wanted closure and wanted to have this discussion that night. Then, that he wanted to move on (so move on buddy, but not into my apt in the middle of the night). Finally, he asked to crash. My response to these was, fine but tomorrow at a reasonable hour, okay good for you, and no. I literally tried pushing him out of my door because he wouldn't leave (I'm 5'4" and 112lbs, he's 6' and 200lbs, so that was effective) and he eventually did. All the while, Chef waited patiently in my closet, in the dark, clutching his clothes.

After freeing Chef, we had a good laugh while Crazy proceeded to text me throughout the night. You know, normal things you would text after showing up drunk in the middle of the night at your ex girlfriend's apartment. Things like, you need to leave town, I don't want anything to do with you, just go away... you know, the norm. Ah, and to top things off, he stuck some random announcement on my car that had been posted around my apartment building. And he drove home drunk. Awesome... clearly I'm the one who needed to leave town.

Sigh... my ex boyfriend is crazy.