Of Jealousy… (Birds In Minneapolis)

This story is true.

Disclaimer:  This story is also fictitious in the way dark humor is, and it has a moral.  I wholly disagree with physical violence and spousal abuse, as I was raised in a family where abuse was present up until I was a teenager.  My parents separated and things are for the better now.  This story is an example of how physical violence is present and still remains a problem in our society.


Note of conscience:

I promised a person that is involved in this story that I would not use his real name, so I will not use any real names, dates, blah blah.  My friend’s name is John.

*We did not shake so the promise is null and void.

Read on.

Whoops, hope we don’t die.



Of jealousy and such…

I used to be jealous until this son-of-a-bitch came to me with the same problem I had.  I thought to myself at first I would actually take him up on the offer to fight; however, I thought about it and realized that I did not want to go to jail, nor did I want to fight anyone over something or someone so trivial.  He can have her for all I care.  She basically isn’t anything at all, but a problem to me now.  The problem was her drinking; however, she is a good person, and we all can have one too many drinks on one too many occasions.

I could regale on the sentiment I had when I first found out about John’s doings; however, I find it more offensive than funny and even less logical than entertaining.

The story goes like this:  I was at a party drinking.  I ended up in a bathroom with a girl.  I woke up at 6 am by her side, woke up and left, as to not mess up the relationship I was in at the time.  I received a call a few weeks later, and we took it from there.  I was newly single and interested in hanging out with a new friend.

Reflecting on tattoos and boring television programs we decided to go our separate ways after two or so weeks of getting together.  I had no problem with this she was cool, and we didn’t talk much.  She moved on to date this complete douche-bag.  Later on in the year she called me, came over and told me her bf was abusing her.  I asked why.  She said it is because he did not trust her.  I told her she should get out of that type of relationship and then we made love.  Jane was a pretty funny girl.

So, a few months ago, or days ago, or weeks ago, or hours ago, or I am making this up because I sort of promised John I would not tell anyone ago.  I received this message in my FB inbox:


  • “i read your blog sometimes. don’t get cocky, I like to pretend that i only sleep with intelligent men. Fortunately, bad news never comes from boredom, inspiration grows there.

  • whats your #”

    I gave her my number, she called and we talked.  She was obviously drunk and I had no reservations other than to possibly meet up with her and have a drink.  I like drinking, she likes drinking-See the score?  She said the next day at 5:30 we would meet up, she would meet me at the coffee shop down the street from my apartment.  Convenient, sweet, it was supposed to be so easy.

    I must say I do trust drunk people though…

    It was all good until the very next day when I never received a call or anything.  I was ditched, life happens.  I let it go.  On to writing and having a pretty decent beer.

    The next day I received a phone call.  The sobbing voice on the other end of the line told me that Jane had died in a car accident on the way to my house.  She had crashed into a school bus full of kids.  She was drunk.  Everyone died; a bunch of flames, colorful backpacks, and crushed metal.  She had been at the bar beforehand telling everyone she was going to hangout with a sub-par semi-famous writer named Terry.  I said I knew nothing of this and hung up the phone posthaste…






    Just kidding, Jane is still alive for the rest of this story.  That was the fictitious part, also the sub-par and semi-famous stuff.


    The day after that, I went on the internet to discover that some prick was trying to tarnish my otherwise spotless reputation on FB by throwing this on Jane’s page:

Maxwell Stupid ·

“Terry, you’re a fucking sack of shit. Jane is an alcoholic who’s been trying to recover from her addiction. I pray that you tell me to my face what’s what about my relationship with Jane. Just send me a message, I’ll give you my address and you can come tell me like a man the things you’ve been saying to MY girlfriend. You fucking pathetic sack of shit.”

After I read this I laughed, blocked both of them, and thought about how this could have happened.  I never actually met up with her and this dude seemed crazy.  I knew her before he knew her, so it’s not like he owns her.  I just thought this was some crazy jealous thing.  I was really confused, not concerned, but confused.  Keep in mind he posted this on his girlfriend’s FB page.  I was like whatever…


Then I received a call from John about a game.  This effectively changed the story into something so funny and so insanely rich with detail that I couldn’t have imagined it on my own.  I met up with John around 7 pm and told him about my situation with Mr. Stupid.  He started laughing and told me to come with him to get some drinks before the game, he had something to tell me.  He would explain everything…

We sat down at The Depot, he ordered a shot of whisky for both of us and two PBR’s.  We downed the shots and began to sip the beers and chat.  John explained that Mr. Stupid was upset because he (John) had gotten to Jane first.  WTF?  I asked him to explain.  He had contacted her the very moment after we had discussed meeting up.  He called her that night because he was on it like vomit.  You got to strike while the iron is hot.  He told me he drove to Mr. Stupid and Jane’s house to pick her up, he was even cautious enough to have brought a knife.  He said it was in his hand as he waited for her outside.  He said he was concerned about her and wanted to go and “help”.  She told him that Mr. Stupid had hit her and that he was crazy.  He said he took her out and they had a great time, and that is why she ditched me.  That is also why Mr. Stupid wants to kill me in person.

I then broke out laughing.  I could not stop laughing.  The cute waitress looked and smiled.  I could not extinguish the smile on my face for the life of me.  Throughout the whole conversation I was laughing and I could not stop.  Really.  I thought I was going to get into a fight with someone because someone I know F’ed someone else’s girl.

The whole time I figured Mr. Stupid was mad at me for talking to Jane, only to find out he was irate because my friend had banged her and Mr. Stupid thought it was me.  Stupid Mr. Stupid.  He thought me the deed doer.

Now is when most people realize that jealousy is a horrible disease of the mind, as is love, and that this story is not funny, or interesting, and that jealousy is making you think things that aren’t true.  Pointing you in directions that are wrong.  Making you think crazy things that can cause crazy things to happen.

He probably won’t know.  He is just some guy.  Possessive and ineffective.  He is going to believe whatever his jealous mind tells him.

Take away thought-process from this story.  Take away patients.  Take away understanding:

If you are in a bad relationship where there is no trust, and there is no passion, get out.  Take a walk and think about how beautiful of a person you are.  How you deserve everything and anything every time.

As they say in I Heart Huckabees:  “you can relax because everything you could ever want or be you already have and are.”

The irony of it all.

Blamed for something I didn’t do for the first time ever.  Not so.  One would have thought I was lying for decades.


John was generally concerned about Jane’s well-being, she is apparently safe now.  She is at her fathers.  Mr. Stupid hit her though, after all this, the night of, and the night after, and even nights before.  He hit her and that was the last straw.  John told me he had to turn out the lights in his room as to avoid seeing her black-eyes.  He told me she could out drink anyone, even someone from La Crosse, Wisco; however, I strongly disagree.  I got her beat.  On the drinking that is…

I am from Wisconsin, and I am no longer jealous of anyone or anything.  I am from La Crescent, I am cultured and thoughtful.  Can we all keep our minds open and our hands to ourselves?

The End.


We didn’t fight for 3 days.  There was no problem.  We just gravitated together.  Different people from different places, different histories, and cultures.  We all just got along.

“Love does exist.”  _penny



About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1/191-4788099-1818040?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=terry+scott+niebeling
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