A Conversation with Myself from Five Years Ago – The Beginning

NOW ME:  Hey!  Hi!

THEN ME:  Aaack!!  Holy shit!  (grabbing nearest large, blunt object to beat myself over the head with) 

Who the fuck are YOU? 

NOW ME:  (backing up slowly)  Okay, calm down… I know you’re probably a little confused, but don’t freak out. 

THEN ME:  DON’T FREAK OUT?  Are you serious?  You show up out of nowhere, scare the shit out of me — How can I NOT freak out?  

NOW ME:  There, there now.

THEN ME:  “There, THERE now?”  Who SAYS that? 

NOW ME:  Um, excuse me, I’m here to do you a favor, and I really don’t appreciate your tone. 

THEN ME:  My TONE?  What are you, my MOM? 

NOW ME:  (losing patience)  No, bitch.  I’m YOU.  FUTURE you.  From five years in your future.  That’s 2008 and– 

THEN ME:  Umm, DUH?  I can add, you know. 

NOW ME:  –and I have some stuff to tell you, if you’ll just shut the hell up for a minute and listen.

THEN ME:  Jeez, you don’t have to be so snippy.  Go ahead, if it’s so important.  Nobody’s stopping you.

NOW ME:  Well, now I’m not sure I want to.  You obviously don’t want to listen. Maybe this was just a wasted trip.  Maybe I’ll just go back home and leave you to figure it all out for yourself, and let you make a bunch of STUPID mistakes that will make you totally miserable in the future.

THEN ME:  Wait a second – If you’re ME in the future, wouldn’t those stupid mistakes make YOU miserable, too? 

NOW ME:  Maybe. 

THEN ME:  Wow, I’m still a totally passive-aggressive bitch in the future.  Huh.

NOW ME:  Should I go?  Or are you done with the whole irritating, uncooperative baby bit?

THEN ME:  God, would you just say what you’ve got to say, already?

NOW ME:  Okay.  Here I go.  Listen up.  This is important. 

(looking skeptically at myself)

Are you really listening?  Or just pretending to listen?

THEN ME: JESUS!!  I’m really listening, okay?  Spit it out!!!

NOW ME:  Okay.  So here’s the deal.  You’ve got some really great things coming up in the next five years, and some not-so-great things, too.  There are some decisions you’re going to make that I honestly can’t believe you were stupid enough to make, and I’m here to tell you to USE YOUR FUCKING BRAIN and you will save yourself a little heartache, if you’ll actually listen to me.

Are you listening?

THEN ME:  (twirling my hair) Mmm hmm.

NOW ME:  HEY!  Stop tuning me out!  This is important stuff here!  It will save you a ton of stress and thousands of dollars and prevent countless fights with the Big Bean and—

THEN ME:  Who’s the Big Bean?

NOW ME:  Dammit, would you FOCUS?

THEN ME:  Man!  Touchy much?  I’m just asking.  You can’t give me some big lecture referencing characters I don’t even know and expect me to keep up.  That’s all I’m saying, Mrs. Bossypants.

NOW ME:  Point taken.  The Big Bean is your husband.

THEN ME:  Oh God, it IS the same husband, right?  We don’t get divorced or anything, do we?  Don’t tell me he DIES.  He doesn’t die, does he?  Or does he cheat on me?  He cheats on me, doesn’t he?  That BASTARD!  I’m gonna kill him myself before he even gets the chan-

NOW ME:  Would you shut up?  Of COURSE it’s the same husband.  He hasn’t died OR cheated.  Although I’m beginning to understand why he might want to.

THEN ME:  Which, die or cheat?

NOW ME:  Both.  Either.  But the point is, we’re still married.  We’re chained to him like a big Ball of Death.  Nobody’s going anywhere in this marriage, at least not for the next five years.

THEN ME:  Oh, okay. 

Huh.  I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed by that.

NOW ME:  I’d go with relieved, if I were you.  Which I am. 

Can I get to the meat now, please?

THEN ME:  (giggling) You said “meat.”

NOW ME:  (also giggling)  That’s what she said. 

(straightening up)  Seriously, though, can I get to the real point of this conversation? 

THEN ME:  I don’t know, can you?

NOW ME:  Shut up. 

As I was saying, the Big Bean and–

THEN ME:  Why do you call him the Big Bean?  OhmyGod – Has he had a PENIS ENLARGEMENT? 

NOW ME:  Jesus, are you serious?  Do you even KNOW the man you’re married to?  There’s no way in HELL he would have a penis enlargement!  For starters, he does not NEED a penis enlargement.  And secondly, if he did, by some miracle, actually HAVE a penis enlargement, I would have come up with something SO MUCH BETTER than “Big Bean.”  Give myself some credit.

THEN ME:  Well, you don’t have to get all bitchy about it.  I don’t know.  You’re talking about “meat” and the “Big Bean” and I honestly can’t even begin to imagine what any of that means, if it’s not about his penis.  You of all people should know I’m gonna go right to the penis.

NOW ME:  Okay, again, point taken.  If it’ll help you to know, he’s called the Big Bean because we had a baby in ’07 and—

THEN ME:  WHA-WHA-WHAT??!?  WE HAD A FUCKING BABY?!?!? 

You just drop that shit on me out of nowhere?  Are you crazy?

NOW ME:  Apparently.

THEN ME:  Are you really ME?  Or just some weird bizarro version of me?  Is the future you’re from actually MY future, or is it Bizarro Bejewell’s future?  Because I ain’t birthin’ no babies, lady. 

I don’t think you’re really me.

NOW ME:  Good God.  I can’t believe how uncooperative you are.  It’s like talking to a 4-year-old martian with ADD.    

Yes, I know right now you think you will never have a baby.  I know you believe that fervently.  But trust me on this, you WILL have a baby.  And it WILL be the best thing you ever did.  And you WILL love it more than you ever expected.  Really.

THEN ME:  (looking around, smiling)  Okay, where’s the camera?  Who’s fucking with me?  BFF?  Is that you?  Are you hiding somewhere and fucking with me?

NOW ME:  GODDAMMIT I came from FIVE YEARS in the FUTURE.  Why would I lie?

THEN ME:  I don’t know.  I don’t even KNOW you.  Yeah, you look like me with a shitty haircut and about 10 extra pounds, and you talk like me, and you did float in on some weird cloud… but you’re talking about Big Beans and having babies and all kinds of shit that makes absolutely no sense.

NOW ME:  My God.  Do you need me to prove it to you?  Okay.  Ask me a question.  Any question.  Something that only myself would know.

THEN ME:  (twirling hair again)  Hmmmmm… let me think… something only I would know, something only I would know… 

NOW ME:  Do you think I have all day?  Seriously?

THEN ME:  Mmmmm hmmm…. Okay.  Got it.  How many fingers am I holding up?

NOW ME:  Fuck you.  I’m leaving.

THEN ME:  (laughing)  No, no, no, wait!  I was just kidding!  I’ll be serious, promise.  Go ahead and tell me all of this “important” stuff you have to say.  Show me the “meat.”  (snickers)

SAVE me from myself.  Go ahead.  Really.

NOW ME:  Really?  You REALLY want to know?

THEN ME:  Really.  Swear.

NOW ME:  Well, now I can’t.  You’ve wasted SO much time being insane that now I have to go and can’t tell you all of the VERY IMPORTANT stuff I was going to tell you.  Do you see what happens when you don’t listen?

THEN ME:  Oh, please.  Now you’re just trying to prove a point.    

NOW ME:  Normally that would totally be true, but in this case it’s not.  I really have to go.  I can only sustain myself in the past for a few minutes at a time, and you have completely WASTED the time I had.

THEN ME:  Bummer.  Will you come back?

NOW ME:  I don’t know.  This hasn’t been a very productive trip.  I don’t know if it’s worth it.

THEN ME:  Are you for real?  You’re gonna make me BEG you to come back?  That just sucks.

NOW ME:  Nobody’s asking you to beg.  Although, an apology wouldn’t be out of line.

THEN ME:  (blank stare)

Don’t you have to go?

NOW ME:  Okay, I’m going.  I’ll be back when I can.  But next time I really hope you’ve got your attitude in check so I can tell you all of this important stuff you need to know.  Okay?

THEN ME:  We’ll see. 

NOW ME:  (floating away on my cloud) I really don’t like myself very much.

THEN ME:  This is so anticlimactic. 

———- 

Will I ever come back?  Will I be able to stop fighting with myself long enough to share the important information I need to know?  Your guess is as good as mine.  Stay tuned to find out if we ever get to the “meat”…

(snickering again)…

Stumble it!

Tags: ridiculous conversations, self-loathing