Not Without my Camaro

(Mom, don't read this.  Nothing to worry about now.)

My psychic friend has been reading my coffee cups for the past few years.  She's usually reeeeeeaally accurate and being the "tell it like it is" girl that she is, usually gets all up in my face if she feels that I'm doing something that isn't healthy in my life.  During the past few months (the saga of Desert Guy et al) has been knockin me upside my head saying, "What are you DOING?"  She was not shy in telling me what she thought about him and his friends.  Foresight.

And with good reason.

They are bad bad bad.  Teddy, who I thought was a dear friend, was no exception.  In fact, he was the worst of the wolf pack (no disrepect to wolves because there is honor and dignity among wolves).  Desert Guy was a walk in the park compared to this creature from the wacked lagoon.

I was already having a hard time with Teddy because I just told him over and over that he was being disrespectful to me.  You don't just show up at my house to talk at me and drink. Have respect. He invites all his 4.5M female "friends" to coffee and dinner. Why am I the only one he is "comfortable" with?   As he said, he comes to my place because it is "home sweet home." Uh no, it isn't your home. When asked why we couldn't just meet over coffee or dinner, the response was, "I'm not trying to sleep with you." So, I refused to talk to him for a few weeks.  Respect.  I shoulda known, a dawg is a dawg (and I mean that as no insult to dogs.  The more I get to know my dog, the less I like people.)

This past weekend, I had the misfortune of having it driven into my thick skull that he's an evil lowlife piece of crap (tell us how you really feel, Desert Girl).  I  listened to his pathetic pleading, "I really really miss you.  I'm sorry....  You're my best friend...  Let's just go out and talk... I'm coming to get you...."

And then..... 

He left me in Kabd with people I didn't know (well, I had seen one of them maybe 3 times years before and I knew that he knew some of my other mutual friends).  Regardless, Teddy just left me there.  I turned around and he was gone.  No car.  No way home.  It was a situation that could have turned really bad, really fast.

I don't cry - as you may know from previous posts. I cry at stupid things like coffee commercials and shows on Lifetime.   I cried this night - big, uglycry, mascara-all-over-your-face, sobbing and shaking kind of cry.  Fear isn't something I'm accustomed to.  Neither is being a simpering girly girl.

SNAP out of IT!  I called Bu Khalaf; his farm is located not-too-far away..  Immediate protection from All Things Evil. 

The guy I had met before, that Teddy left me with (or "to" - I don't know what his intent was, but I have a distinct gut-level feeling "to" might be closer to the truth) is a ranking police officer.  He promised Bu Khalaf that he would get me home safely and he did.  But not before taking me to get something to eat and stopping to buy me a small gift because, "Not all Kuwaitis are bad."  He was a gentleman and told me outright what he thought of Teddy, "He's not a man." 

99.9% of the time, I never drive with anyone else.  I always always take my car.  This time was an exception because I TRUSTED Teddy.   I shouldn't have.   His character/ being a whore (and no disrespect to whores) aside, I considered him a friend and never would have imagined that he would be so low  (I guess when a dog runs after a cat, he loses his frick-in MIND.  DGy called him and he was off in chase of cats; leaving me to fend for myself.)

I can count on one hand how many people have been truly bad to me since I have been in Kuwait (almost 17 years now).  The number doesn't even reach the last digit.  Teddy is number 4.

Usually, I'm all preachy to people about having a back-up plan, but I let my guard down and I didn't have one this time (or my pepper spray or a weapon).  Stupid.  It was late and I had to scramble to think of someone to call.  Thank God, he answered the phone.  Thank God I was protected by good people. 

Just wish my back-up plan came with a Louisville slugger and an aptitude for revenge.

Let me reiterate that in almost-17 years, nothing like this has ever happened to me in Kuwait.  I am much more likely to have something violent or scary happen to me in the US (at home in DC) and an count several very uncomfortable if not downright dangerous situations there (like gunfights, being chased home when I was a teenager by someone who later turned out to be a serial rapist, etc.)

I've had an internal debate about posting this story. But then I thought it might maybe trigger something in someone else; maybe you should have a back-up plan too.  Don't leave home without your Camaro. ... The're a reason for everything...  That kind of philisophical crap.

This skumbag is the reason my best friend of 16 years dumped me (making her... well... just as bad I suppose.)   This whole situation has taught me so much.  I asked God to protect me from enemies, and I started losing friends. If anyone asked me six months ago if any of this could ever happen to me, I would have laughed at them. 

Just a few more days and I'll be on the plane.  It is always nice to return to Kuwait, refreshed and renewed; welcoming the big change that inevitably comes after every plane trip out and in.  Last time, the change that came was to teach me life lessons.  I really hope that the next change will come in the form of something superficial and happy (if it isn't too much to ask).