Time to Bury the Hatchet

I always thought, in reference to a certain ex of mine, that when I was finally ready to bury the hatchet I'd bury it right in his lousy backside. Heh. We were together for 364 days. Why do I know this? Because the weasel dumped me on Valentine's day. Dump isn't quite the word. He just never called again. No more lunches at the office. At that time, I didn't have a license so... well you can figure it out. We had met the day AFTER Valentine's day the year before. Looking back on that now, what the hell was I thinking?!?! We dated for a few months before we moved in together. THAT lasted exactly 18 days. It took exactly 17 days to find out that the schmuck was capable of picking me up by my forearms and hurling my 110lb (at the time) body across the room. Scrawny lil shit was tough! And mean! LOL Anyway, I moved out on day 18. A few days after that he did the requisite groveling that all men seem to be adept at and I did the gutless thing most women seem to be good at. The rest of that relationship went down much like day 17 of cohabitation. One particularly memorable fight involved a shovel. Don't worry he's still alive. Unfortunately. Anyway, he hit the hood of my truck with a shovel. I should have just walked away then, but in my brilliance I whacked him in the chest with the shovel. At which point he worked me over pretty good. Oops. Bad call on the whole shovel whacking incident. It was an on-again-off-again thing for 364 days.

So anyway, Tim is trading that old truck in. It still has the dent in the hood from the shovel incident. So it got me thinking. I can't remember this guys middle name, or if he even had one. I can't remember if Randy was short for Randall or Randolf. I can't even remember what color his eyes were. I do however remember his hair was brown.... with a decent amount of gray. I remember this because at some point we had a huge fight because I pointed out he was going gray. I may or may not have called him an old geezer but that's beside the point.

What is the point.... is when did I bury the hatchet? The one that isn't protruding from his back. Apparently it happened somewhere along the way. I've forgotten more about him than I remember. Hell I can't even remember his whole name. About all I remember at this point is... Randy was an old fart who lived in a trailer behind the car wash. Looks like I moved up in the world from those days.