A few years ago, I was friends with someone crazy. I had graduated from high school, I was employed at a local cafe from 5am-5pm, and then during nights I would play in a band (rehearsals or gigs, ~3-5x a week) from 9pm-2 or 3am. I was a huge fan of naps, of not eating as much as I should have (no lie, it was killer for my figure despite the lack of sleep), and getting yelled at by this friend at any or every hour for completely ridiculous, petty things. If I was happy, they would yell at me for not listening to their problems. If I was sad, they would yell worse for me "clamming up" and not telling them what was wrong. Every time my phone rang, I would automatically become nauseated, as the only people to ever call me were my manager or this crazy friend.
Friend would call "just to chat," to "set me straight," or to give me real solid life-advice. Every day. More than once a day.

Look how shiny my hair was. Ahh, those were the days.
Note: that is not crazy friend. That is my beautiful sister, Brawlina.

When I went to school, I was delighted, as it was a brilliant way to painlessly extricate myself from friend's clutches. And so they kept calling, albeit with less frequency, until one day the calls--without my realizing it--had stopped! I was free and boy oh boy it was good. Then, a few months later, friend texted me a few long epics to see if I was interested in a business venture. It was a big deal in their life, I knew, and it was actually pretty nice for them to want me to get in on it, but no fucking way was I walking back into that trap again. No siree.
So I ignored the texts, every single one, until I finally received the last which said, "So I guess that's a no...?"
and I ignored the shit out of that one too. My reasoning was this: oh, I've changed my number. I didn't receive any of your texts, crazy, so sorry that I missed out on this big deal of yours!
And I've felt fine about it since. No guilt, easy explanation.

But just now, a few years out of that truly draining relationship, I had a thought as I was washing my hands in the bathroom at work.
If I ever do want to rekindle things with them (or be in close contact with any of our mutual friends again--yes, it got to that point), I'm going to have to change my number for real so I don't look like a bona fide dickfaced liar. Which got me to wondering which cell phone carrier I'd switch to. Maybe an iPhone? Maybe a Blackberry? Maybe this this that when I realized:
shit girl, you crazy. Bitch was crazy, but you are just as bad. You are a total crazy enabler.

You, Karen, familiar with my dating and friendship histories, know this.
I am some delicious, endlessly regenerating fodder: luring them in and then keeping them around until they die or I finally have the guts to lie to them and then run away as fast as I can.

Whenever I think of the word fodder, I think of the game Harvest Moon. So many fond memories of so many hours wasted.

-Camille