A-hole Game: Day 3

Previously: Asshole Game: Day 1 and Asshole Game: Day 2

Uncaring asshole game will revitalize a flagging relationship and help keep the love strong.

One weeknight around 1 AM I got a frantic call from my girlfriend. She wailed that she had gotten into an accident and needed help. Looking over at my clock and realizing it was six hours until I had to get up for work, I sighed heavily and asked her if the accident was serious. She cried. “Whaat?? I don’t know, yes it’s serious! I don’t know what to do!” I told her to calm down and explain what happened. Between her sobs I could piece together the events. She had driven back from a job and was parallel parking on a street in her neighborhood close to her home, which was about a twenty minute walk from my place. In the process of parking, she had hit the SUV in front of her. Her car, presumably, was sticking out into the street a bit.

A parallel parking “accident”? There was no way I was rousing myself from my comfortable slumber and traipsing out there in the middle of the night to console her for a minor fender bump. How bad can a girl fuck up parallel parking? I thought for a second. My girlfriend was a skittish, uncoordinated driver. Stereotypically female behind the wheel. Yeah, if anyone could turn a parallel park job into a five car pileup it would be her. Then I thought about where she was parked. Her neighborhood was sketchy (i.e not enough SWPLs had moved in yet). If I were a girl, I wouldn’t walk around there at 1 AM. I thought some more.

“Look, just leave your car there and go home. It’s late. Get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow. We’ll check out your car in the morning. Whatever happened, it can’t be that bad, so stop freaking out about it. You just bumped a fender.”

“I can’t just leave it!” She was really crying now. “You have to come! Please, take a look. It’s bad. I don’t like standing out here. It’s dark and there are weirdos walking around. Just help me!”

Fucking Christ. “Don’t make a big fucking production out of this! You bumped your car, it’s not a huge deal to get worked up over. Calm down and just walk home. I’ll be there in the morning.”

“Please come, pleeeeeease!!!”

Annoyed that my sleep was interrupted, and irritated with my girlfriend for spazzing out over nothing, I drove to the scene of the tardishness. She was pacing next to her car, arms crossed, tears running down her face. I examined the car. Holy shit. There was a giant gouge in the right front panel where she had turned the car too early as she was backing up into the empty parking spot. I couldn’t believe someone could cause that much damage from parallel parking, not even a hysterical girl.

“What the hell did you do?!”

She explained that once her car bumped into the SUV up front, instead of doing the logical thing and pulling out to try again, she had freaked out and kept her foot on the gas pedal, trying to force her tiny Toyota into the spot. Result: A deep resale value-killing indentation from her car grinding into the bumper of the SUV. I get exasperated with stupidity, so I gave her the cold, hard stare of contempt.

“Give me the keys.”

I pulled her car forward and parked it in the empty spot without incident.

“I wanted you to come help. I was scared out here.”

I pointed at her house across the street. “You could’ve pulled your car out and parked like a normal human being, and then gone home instead of dragging me out here for nothing. Don’t play these little drama acts with me.”

She looked down at the ground. The streetlight reflected off her tear streaked face. “What will we do about the car now?”

“I don’t know. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” I didn’t offer her to come back to my place. “Try not to think about it and go to sleep.”

The next evening she was at my place, apologetic but also hurt that I didn’t rush to her side like a white knight. I barely paid her feelings any heed. Her pain simply didn’t register. That night, we watched porn and I did her in the ass for the first time. She welcomed my meaty intrusion.

When I told a good friend what had happened, the words he used to describe me were “Grade A schmuck. Complete asshole.” Then he wondered why she was still with me and said I didn’t deserve her.

She and I stayed together for another year. The sex was always available and her pussy moist. She never had a “headache”. She accepted my facials with clocklike regularity. In hindsight, she fit the description of a Neurotic Waif perfectly, with elements of the Eternal Ingenue.

The best Asshole Game is when the assholery comes naturally and effortlessly. What I did was not good by most people’s definition of the good, but there’s no denying it worked. After that incident, she was in love with me more than ever.