In its prime, the blender story became a favorite among friends. My ex, I’ll call Chris, and his friend “Ally” worked together at a bar in college, and became reacquainted in the area we lived where she was living and working nearby as a high school teacher. Since he was living separately, in a very remote location, and pretty unavailable in every sense of the word, and Ally didn’t know many people around, I started hanging out with her and introducing her to some of my friends and co-workers. She was free-spirited and creative, and we had some things in common, so I enjoyed her company. During the summer, when she was off work, she and Chris often hung out together on Mondays when I was working. As far as I could tell, this seemed to mostly involve them getting high and drinking margaritas at the pool at her apartment complex. Obviously you need a blender for that, so they borrowed mine. And obviously I didn’t have much to say about anything that went on, as I was regularly viewed as unstable, crazy, and volatile for any emotion above flatline, regardless of the surrounding circumstances.
At some point, my apartment and deck became a temporary home for many of Ally’s plants when she was moving from one apartment to another and going out of town in between. I wasn’t sure exactly how this happened, but as is often the case with someone programmed to function on his own terms in life, I was just along for the ride, and did a lot of nodding and saying, “Sure.” This of course meant I’d be taking care of them, since Chris didn’t live there and was more of an observer of my life than a participant, but I didn’t mind since I’d spent several years “training” him how to live on mutual terms with someone, and things like this were his version of doing so, since they involved me in some way.
Since our breakup happened rather abruptly, and without much closure, I still had some of Ally’s larger potted plants at my house on the deck, and she still had my blender from a Monday margarita session. I knew keeping in touch could get awkward, as we met up a couple of times after and I was pretty forthright with my opinions; this tends to make people in the area where we lived very uncomfortable.
As I was grieving, upset, and pretty traumatized about what was happening, I was just looking to connect with anyone who would listen. And as Ally was still in touch with Chris and they were smoking joints together, at some point she stopped communicating with me. This wasn’t unreasonable, and I sometimes wondered if they were sleeping together, this wouldn’t have surprised me based on some of his past behavior and now looking back on what came next, but really I just wanted to make a smoothie. I’d asked for my blender back at some point, and one day returned from work to find it sitting on my deck. It was missing the lid, and there had been no communication, no text, nothing from Ally. I was incredibly pissed about the lack of accountability, my MO for most of those years of my life. “It’s fine if you don’t want to keep in touch with me,” I thought, but perhaps you could say something along the lines of “Dropped off your blender,” and THEN ignore me for the rest of your life or pretend to be busy forever. And “WHERE THE FUCK IS THE LID, THIS BLENDER IS USELESS TO ME NOW!?” But I took a deep breath, and called my friend.
The most amusing part of the blender story is this: After sitting on my deck and taking some deep breaths, I heard an incredibly loud noise, the “noise” was Ally driving by my apartment, which was located on a rather main road, in her SUV that clearly needed a new muffler. I’m not sure if she noticed me sitting on my deck staring at her, but when I looked over at her car, hanging out of the window on the passenger’s side was the large plant that had still been in my care on my deck, the plant that she had taken when she dropped off my blender, mostly likely minutes before. Chris would have really enjoyed that story, were the surrounding circumstances different, and in that moment I almost wished he was there, watching Ally noisily clank by, with a giant plant sticking out her car window.
So much for “Operation Covert Blender Drop,” Ally. Nice try…Since she didn’t know the area that well, I’m not sure she realized there were alternate routes available that would have bypassed my apartment, but I’m glad she didn’t because this has become one of my favorite stories.
I never did see or speak to her again, and resisted the urge to contact her in any way, something I wasn’t always good about with Chris when I was feeling angry and grieving.
I realized I could let things like this poison me or drag me down and stay angry, and I did that for a long time and found it exhausting, so I decided to write funny stories about them instead.