(No Longer) The Final Chloe Puton Rant to Buds and Buddettes.

Subtitled: My Name’s Chloe Puton and Let’s end four years because some guy came onto me. Seriously Chloe, everyone in a relationship gets offered tang or dick at some point, you’re not special.

After a weekend break-up with Chloe Puton (she dumped my ass), I’ve realized something. de Montaigne mentioned in An Apology for Raymond Sebond*, “When I play with my cat, how do I know that she is not playing with me rather than I with her?” This can be intended in the original way, or in modern Wire-speak, “Nigga, you thought you were a player, but you got played”

After what seemed like months of hearing Chloe Puton‘s anticipation of my arrival, I was left shocked (and possibly awed) that Chloe Puton went to a wedding and was now breaking up with me.

In my paranoid fashion, I had warned her that weddings were emotional ceremonies and not to go falling in love, and was assured that I had nothing to worry about. I was told the standard “I love you and I can’t wait until you’re here” as I wished her a good time.

Upon her return, I was told that I was no longer welcome in Boston. Paraphrased, it read, “I dunno, I feel different.”  Complete flick of the light switch: Bam, done.  Chloe Puton didn’t care that she’d planned my arrival for months or had asked me to give up my apartment in Toronto and at least a handful of advertising contracts, along with the cost american health insurance just days before, Chloe Puton just cared that she’d changed her mind.

Seriously, I gave up everything that I owned and love, except what I could fit in two suitcases and a wad of cash……because she asked. She asked, I did. What drives me absolutely insane is that she doesn’t seem to grasp how incredibly difficult it was for me to give up e’erthing. She portrays it as if it were just some simple decision. I like my stuff! I loved my paints, I loved my books, I loved my paintings, I loved my baseball cards, I loved my beat up old tv, and I loved my bed. I loved my clothes, and I certainly thought I loved her.

Chloe Puton’s initial reason was, “I’m young and want to be free,” to which my mother suggested the possibility of another man. I thought that was hogwash, but boy was I wrong.

Eventually, Chloe Puton opened up and eventually revealed that she had met another man at the wedding that she’d spoke with for a handful of hours. Of course, she still wanted to be free or so she said, but she was more than willing to get into another relationship.

She, of course hadn’t told her mother that I was moving down until a week or two ago, which was bound to cause trouble despite me asking whether or not her mom knew how much rent I’d be paying months ago.

So, as any reasonable man would do, I asked to come down immediately to speak things over with her but was greeted with a hilarious response: “Sorry, I’ll be going to New York that weekend to visit my grandmother.”

“Wait, Chloe Puton, doesn’t this gentleman that you met live in New York. Will you be seeing him?”

“Maybe. Yah. We’ve got plans”

So, as it turns out, apparently she can’t discuss her recently ended four year relationship because she’s got a date. As fate would have it, I emailed Michael and told him what was up and how could any man do this to another man, citing the Bro Code, obviously.

When I eventually managed to speak to Chloe Puton again, I told her that I’d explained to Michael the circumstances (because I mean, who would’ve thought that you’d tell someone that you’re in a four year relationship when you plan a date) and she started to cry.

I’d ruined Chloe Puton’s chances, so she cried. Chloe Puton wasn’t about to get her way, so she cries. I’m out thousands and thousands of dollars, along with a place to live, but she’s crying because I emailed the man that she spoke to for three hours at a wedding and told him that she was acting irrationally.

What kind of woman in her right mind would send naked photos of herself to a man an entire four? days before breaking up with him? Well, a selfish one I’d imagine. She asked me not to share them, but I told her that I would if she cheated on me, to which she said, “well that’s understandable,” so again, draw your own conclusions.

So,

While I logically walked her through the logistics of my arrival months before my arrival…

While I gave up about $10,000 to be with her…

While I asked her whether or not her parents knew how much rent I was paying…

While I asked her how we’d deal with the arrival of any of her friends…

I was stuck dealing with a 23-year old girl that wants to be in a relationship with a 31-year old man because she wants to be “free.”

A woman that made sure to break the news while she knew I had no friends around (because I’d gave up my apartment,) she knew that I’d just spent thousands of dollars, and she knew that I had no way of distracting myself while I was out in the boonies.

I figured I’d get this all of my chest, because all I’ve been hearing are the same old recycled lies:

“it was hard for me to break up with you, the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but you can’t come down because I have a date that weekend.”

Thanks, Chloe Puton.

Edit: My anger has increased massively as I realized the sheer amount of stuff that I now have to repurchase and all of this could’ve been avoided had Chloe Puton acted like an adult. I’m not asking to be loved, but I am asking for human decency. If you’re going to bust balls, just try and do it before you leave a man with two suitcases to show for his entire life. Furthermore, the fact that I’ll probably have to pay 200 or 300 dollars more per month for rent has made me absolutely fucking furious. Yet, this is some kind of hilarious game, or so it appears.

I’ve dealt with a lot of shit in my life. I’ve almost died and then had to deal with the addiction that goes along with doctors putting you back together like humpty dumpty. I can honestly say, without a doubt, I felt like more of a human when I went through oxycontin withdrawal after undergoing 23 surgeries and years of being a jigsaw puzzle. It probably took me less time to find forgiveness in my heart for the dude that put me in the hospital and the hatred wasn’t anywhere near this strong.

I’m still not sure if she’s evil or just fucked up; maybe just confused. I don’t know if it makes a difference as both will be tough to rationalize, but I have to figure it out.

*and thanks Carson of notgraphs, now I’ll be quoting French writers for the next fucking month.