People Who Don't Love Me

On other blogs, I see people making lists all the time. It seems to be a way to get out of actually writing something, because it's a lot easier to make lists than to write in full paragraphs. Bloggers list their top 25 songs, the 10 things you didn't know about them, and their all time 15 major pet peeves. May I say, "Yawn?" While I understand the appeal of listing, I think that the list should be creative, definitely not something you would suspect. So here I'd like to list the top 5 people in this world who have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they do not love me. Didn't see that one coming, did you?

1. Ed Giles, a.k.a., El Giles (el hee-lays), Giles, Jouse, Eddie Poop, Edward Giles IV, and so on.
As many of you know, Elliot is a graduate student in philosophy, and I soon discovered that dating him meant spending time with the other philosophy graduate students. Which is great; I liked many of them, even enough to offset my hatred for one of them. But you all know the problem with meeting your significant other's friends--they never really seem like your friends, no matter how much time you spend with them. It's very rare that you would hang out with these people or otherwise socialize with them unless you're participating as The Couple. So while I liked most of Elliot's friends, it was hard to really love them, since I could never feel they were my own.
And then, there was the The Giles. I met him before Elliot, talked to him before Elliot, knew more about him than Elliot did, bantered with him better than Elliot, knew more of his cultural references than Elliot (age difference), and spent more time at Philosophy Drinking Night talking to him than Elliot did. Finally, I felt like one of the philosophy people was one of my friends. When Elliot went to California, Ed never called him there if he had a message; he called me and had me relay the message to Elliot.
Well, you guessed it, folks: trouble in paradise. Elliot comes back, he and Ed are new roommates, and I stop existing. Now Ed and Elliot are West Wing buddies, and they have little inside jokes, and they go to see bands together, and they listen to music together, and Ed--the one philosophy dude I could claim--has been reclaimed for Elliot exclusively. Now I am not an independent human being; no, I'm just Elliot's girlfriend. Ed never calls me anymore, never emails me with funny links, and never replies to me when I post on his blog. Say it with me, church: no love!

2. Your mom.
Because I insult her all the time. Can you blame me? She's so ugly her nickname is "Damn!"

3. Vincent B. Leitch.
This one is especially heartbreaking because VBL is the man I love more than anyone in the world. He's my idol, my hero, my endless love. Why doesn't he love me, you ask? Because just as I am undeserving of God's love, I am undeserving of VBL's love, but unlike God, VBL has no obligation to send his son to die on a cross just so he can tolerate me. VBL's love can only be bestowed upon those who are worthy of it, like Foucault or Derrida. In comparison to these great Frenchman, I am decidedly unworthy (though better smelling). For three years I tormented VBL, turning in my work late, asking him a thousand questions when I know he hates getting emails, and borrowing his books without giving them back. Oh, VeeBee, if I could go back and do it all over again, I would have bought the new version of the Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism, of which you were in the editor-in-chief, instead of the used version. I didn't know that by buying a used book, I was keeping you from receiving the $4.20 that you were supposed to get for every copy sold. The fact that I saved up my spare change for weeks and left the $4.20 in an envelope in your mailbox doesn't make up for my mistake, I know. I'll try harder next time. I will! I really will!

4. Mr. Evans, my 6th grade science teacher.
This guy was such an unbelievable asshole, such a disaster as a teacher, that I actually started a petition to get him fired. I had about forty signatures before another teacher, Mrs. Schroedter, found out about it and gave me the talking-to of my life. During the lecture, Mr. Evans just sat there, not saying a word and trying to look wounded. Bastard. If you're going to gripe me out, at least have the cajones to do it yourself! Wherever you are, Mr. Evans, I just want you to know that I've intentionally forgotten everything you ever told me about electrons. Ha! Isn't it nice to know you wasted a whole two weeks lecturing on the periodic table, Mr. SuckFace?

5. Carmen Sandiego
I never did find where in the world that illusive bitch was hiding. All my friends in the Gifted Class found her, but not me. I guess the intelligence test I took to get in there was a fluke.

There are plenty of other people who don't love me, but I think five is all my heart can take right now. Pardon me while I put out cigarettes on my navel.