The Death of a Property Manager


If only. No, maybe not. It’s a play on the title Death of a Salesman. I am sorry if you’re an avid fan of the play and it offends your senses. I am an asshole.

And I am. I know that it’s not solely Diablo’s doing for the fall of our dysfunctional fuckship. And though I just thought of calling it a fuckship now, I really feel that’s what it was.

I met Diablo when I was 16. We dated 3 months maybe before I had a sneaking suspicion he was up to no good and I hacked into his hotmail and LiveJournal. This was so far back that passwords didn’t require all the nonsense they do now. No capitals, no numbers, no special symbols. When shit was fucking simple. So I hacked and I learned the lesson, don’t ask what you don’t want to know. The truth set me free, but damn did it piss me off. He was necking with girls on his couch and in the hallways at his school. Diablo.

Fast-forward 14 years and we start talking. After what he did to me oh so long ago, I still have no interest in dating him and he probably had similar sentiment since I hacked his shit and changed his passwords to some classy alternatives.

Our biggest (in my opinion) problem is he’s mean. It’s why I have dubbed him Diablo. His girlfriend of 5 years left him and he’s one of those people who cannot function without a partner. In the last 4-6 months he has said some real choice things to me and we have gotten to the point of arguing everyday.

Yesterday we went to the mall and because he had been drinking all night until 7am that morning, he came over reeking of alcohol and acting super childish. Now this part I am embarrassed to admit, but whatever. I decided to hook up with him later in the evening. A girls got needs, lame but true.

After, he took a photo of me without permission and I didn’t confront him at the moment because I am deadass non-confrontational, even if I know you personally. So I let it slide. I ask him about it today and he tells me, “You are seeing things that aren’t there. And now instead of asking right then I have no way to prove otherwise.”

So I used this as a point to end this fuckship because honesty is my number one core value. Without honesty, how can there be trust and genuine communication? And in my mind, and knowing Diablo, the defensive response instead of a lighthearted quip like he’d usually use had he not done it, paints him guilty.

Do I care he has a picture of my ass? Maybe. Do I care he took it without asking or giving me a choice? Yes. So I have him in my phone as Perv-DNA (do not answer).

And that is my story of The Death if a Property Manager (AKA Diablo).

Have you had a fuckship? Have you put up with more bullshit than you ever thought you’d let yourself? Why do bad things become addicting? I’m listening.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Merbear74 says:

    I have one word for you: RUN.

    Liked by 1 person

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