This is how I feel.
Fuck the Honda Element and (especially) fuck the orange one.
My loathing of a silly car may seemingly come from nowhere, but I assure you there is a reason.
MF drives this car. And while I am currently uber happy and moving on with Mr. M in my life… I can’t help it, I STILL feel this way when I see his car.
I have always thought the car of the box-kind variety was ugly. Just trashy and unthoughtful. When I found out that MF drove one, I literally said, “Oh. One of those box cars?”
We used MF’s car to do a lot of things. As in most relationships, there were a lot of memories made in that car. When we went on trips he would often make me drive longer than him and it would hurt my butt. It looks about as comfortable as it is. Sitting on a box for 9 hours is not ideal. We endured the Hail Storm of 2010 in that car; where he blamed me for not checking the weather and therefore being the reason why we got caught in the weather.
It was also in that car where he first told me to “just be happy” and to let it go when I asked him why he purposefully slammed a door in my face. I asked him to apologize to me, and he responded that he doesn’t take requests. There were good memories made in that car too, of course, but who the fuck cares when you are (overall) dating a Mind Fuck. Even the nice stuff is part of the mind fucking, so it’s really not so nice after all.
Ever since the MF break-up back in September, when I see the orange Honda Element, I cringe. How many people really have this ugly car? A LOT, actually. Or at least, because I notice it I notice it. The thing is orange and ugly, so you really can’t miss it. And every time I do see it I immediately think, “Is it MF?” There’s even one that sits outside my bedroom window all day and all night. I’ve seen it move once in the past 4 months. I think it’s taunting me.
But this car hatred (which obviously really is just a physical reminder of a painful time in my life) came to a head the other day when I ran an errand on my lunch at work. I saw the orange box of shit at a place MF would more than likely be. I was instantly anxious. But I pushed it out of my mind. After running the errand I parked my car and was walking across a street fairly close to the previously mentioned orange box siting. I stood their waiting for the light to change so I could cross the street and get back to work. That’s when I saw it.
I was for sure it was him. He was three cars away from the light where I was standing. I caught myself holding my breath. It was the longest light ever. He was about to be right next to me. I should have worn something nice today. My face is all broken out. I’m alone. I wish I was walking with someone, laughing and having fun.
The orange crept into my view. I peaked. I looked across the street in a Rico Suave move to see if it actually was him. As I glanced across the street, there it was…the car was right in front of me.
Inside, a busted looking old leathery white haired man stared back at me.
HA! I literally laughed out loud. I crossed the street and as I walked back to work I felt a sense of relief. I had just scared myself out of being scared. And then I wrote this story down while in traffic, surrounded by cars (don’t worry, I wasn’t moving), and I laughed some more. And writing it now, again, and having you lovely readers read it, makes me feel even better about this piece of shit car. How glorious it is to talk about things and then be able to conquer them.
Yours conquering one ugly piece of shit orange Honda Element at a time,