Ty's beef

You have a problem.



It's not the problem you think you have.



The problem you think you have is your alleged love life.



That's a problem you created yourself when you decided to pursue a married man.



Any sane person would have known the likely outcomes and grasped that the one favorable outcome was iffy at best.



But no one could tell you anything and you went for it.



What you got was the 'gift' of performing blow jobs on him when he was in the mood. He'd show up and expect one and you'd go down.



This has now been going on for sixteen months.



Believe it or not, he is not your problem.



You are now your problem.



You have exhausted everyone's patience.



On Friday, I walked in from work with my cell ringing. I saw it was you and made the mistake of picking up. I told you I really only had ten minutes.



Two and a half-hours later, I finally got you off the phone.



What does it mean?



He's cold to me when others are around. What does it mean?



He said this and he said that. What does it mean?



Here's what it means, what it's always meant: Not only is he not leaving his wife for you, he's not dropping your former friend that he screws on the side.



Here's what it means: If he only wants you for blow jobs, you either have a talented mouth or you're not his type.



Here's what it means: Sixteen months later, he's not anymore interested in you than he was when he found out you'd go down on him and not expect anything in return -- not even a kiss.



Here's what it really means: People are sick of hearing your drama.



You're mad at me because I didn't make time for you on Saturday.



I was apparently supposed to block out four hours to listen to everything that didn't happen between Friday evening and Saturday morning and listen to you ask for advice, listen to you dismiss advice, and I was supposed to waste my entire day on you, someone who really isn't that close of a friend to begin with but someone whom I've wasted untold hours each week listening to the Does-he-love-me-or-not endless rounds of 'analysis.'



I am really at the end of my rope and do not have time to waste.



I stated for 2 months, before you went for it, it was a mistake. I pointed out that a man with a wife and at least one known 'girlfriend' on the side wasn't really someone to set your heart on.



When you finally 'landed' him via blow job number one and he didn't even kiss you, he pushed you away and left, I told you, "I don't think he's the one."



Sixteen months later, numerous blow jobs later, no kisses later, you should grasp that he truly is not the one.



Instead of attempting to decipher him and what "I'm busy" means, you should be in analysis trying to decipher why you'd rush home from work every day and stay at your apartment all weekend as well because he said he "might" drop by. "Might" appears to mean that when his wife and his girlfriend won't give him a blow job or any sex, he'll stop by and see you. By my count, that's eight times in sixteen months.



This isn't a relationship.



It is pathetic.



And it's a chore to hear about it.



Friday, for two and a half hours, you went over every word he'd ever said to you.



But you were keyed up that he "might" be coming over.



As a general rule, no one wants to spend hours discussing your 'relationship' that stands in line behind the relationship he has with his girlfriend and then his wife. No one needs to hear it. No one wants to hear it. Over sixteen months, you've made me cringe every time I see your number on my cell phone.



You know for a fact that Saturday night and Sunday morning I'm working with everyone on the latest edition. But at three in the morning, you start calling every ten minutes. You then start texting, "Call me. I need to talk."



Your needs were two and a half hours on Friday.



When I told everyone why I wasn't picking up and why I was irritated, they assumed you were my age. They said it's always hard when you're first falling in love. They were shocked to learn that you're over forty. They were shocked to learn that you were over forty and so obsessed with yourself that even though I was sick on Friday and told you when I picked up, "I only have ten minutes and then I'm going to sleep," that you kept on talking. "I've got to go" never made you say, "Oh, sure, I'm sorry, you're sick." "I've got to go" was instead greeted with "One more thing . . ." At one point, I fell asleep for several minutes and when I woke up you were still yammering away.



Your life is not all that interesting to begin with. Your 'love' life even less so. Two and a half hours on the man you perform oral sex on -- eight times in sixteen months -- should have been enough to last you for the month. Instead it has become your only topic.



Saturday, you called on the main line repeatedly and I asked C.I. if we could turn off the ringer and just let the service pick up. You left 28 messages.



I was asked, "Are you her only friend?"



No. And everyone is sick of it.



As SD said Thursday, "I don't have the time for this. I know she keeps you on the phone for at least an hour, she's then on the phone to me and then she's calling ___. How self-obsessed can one person be?"



Good question.



And how stupid can one person be?



A relationship is not eight blow jobs in sixteen months. You've never been kissed, he's never taken you out, he tells you not to say "love," he says he "might" be over but more often isn't.



You don't have a relationship.



And everyone's sick of hearing about it.