Jesus Crusher

Ah, Jesus Crusher (JC for short). Good guy, too many issues. We're actually still friends, even though I haven't seen him since we were dating.

I can't remember exactly, but I think JC was just one of those very random guys who messaged me in a Yahoo! chatroom. I remember that his picture wasn't too clear and I had trouble determining the cute factor, but god could he make me LAUGH. JC's sense of humour was witty, silly and definitely his best quality.

After talking a whole bunch of times via internet and phone, JC and I finally met up. While he wasn't the hottest guy I'd ever seen (chunk-a-lunk, big teeth), we got along famously and started seeing each other on a regular basis. The catch: JC lived with his parents in Pickering, so I would take a bus and then a subway to the end of the line, where he would pick me and take me to stay at their place for the weekend.

JC came from an Irish Catholic family, and I was forbidden to mention that I am of Irish descent and raised Protestant, regardless of the fact that I am not religious. His dad was this ├╝ber tall and terrifying man with a heavy Irish accent and mutton chops. His mother was the sweetest, teeniest woman (who would sometimes call me into her room to point out rabbits in the backyard at dusk), but old-fashioned and refused to let her thirty-something-year-old son sleep in the same room as his girlfriend. If we fell asleep watching a movie in his room, she would inevitably come in, wake him up, and walk him to the spare bedroom.

Mornings were awkward, as I'd have to walk past his parents to get to the washroom, in my pj's with crazy rumpled hair. I'd wave and say, "Good morning!", while I might as well have had a blinking sign on my forehead that said, HI! I SLEPT WITH YOUR SON LAST NIGHT!

JC didn't like to go out. Ever. We'd pick up food, go back to his parents' place, and watch movies or the hockey game EVERY weekend. I never met any of his friends, and other than my roomate, Angie, the one and only time he came to my apartment, he never met any of mine.

JC was claustrophobic, and refused to go anywhere near the subway. He had a car, but driving in the rain, snow, or even the dark were terrifying for him. He mentioned occasional panic attacks. I discovered that he was seeing a therapist regarding his previous relationship. Severe back problems would render him useless (if you know what I mean), and I would often watch movies alone after he'd doped himself up on painkillers/uppers and crashed early.

I will admit to having a very sarcastic sense of humour, and those who don't know me tend to take things I say the wrong way. I'm all for witty banter, but JC had a habit of going too far; things he would say to me were derogatory and mean. For example, he did better on some silly internet IQ test than I did, and called me 'stupid' for weeks, in an insulting and condescending manner. If I tried to discuss it with him, he would accuse me of being overly sensitive, or ask if the cranberry monster was visiting (sorry, I heard that term this morning and couldn't help myself!).

Traveling across the city and back every weekend had started to take its toll on me. I was the one putting in all the effort, living out of a bag, and missing my friends, and I was only 23 years old!

New Years Eve changed everything. It has been my family's tradition for years to go out and see a movie, then order assloads of greasy chinese food. Amazing. I suggested this to JC, but of course, he wanted to RENT a movie, because god forbid we went OUT anywhere. I conceded, and watched longingly as his mom and dad got all dressed up and went out to a party.

Tired and annoyed, I decided not to join JC for a cigarette after the movie. It was long after midnight, and his parents were already home and asleep. I was lying on his bed, mindlessly flipping channels on the TV when I heard this weird thud, thud, thud, crash. And then groaning. I made no attempt to investigate, rolled my eyes and continued to flip channels. The groaning continued, and then I heard slow, deliberate footsteps on the stairs. JC came barging into the room, screaming at me to get out of the way, and screaming for his mother. I rolled out of the way to avoid being crushed as he threw himself onto the mattress, still screaming for this mother. I was horrified as his mom ran into the room in her nightgown, asking him what was wrong.

JC had tripped over the cat, fallen down the stairs, and nearly crushed baby Jesus in the nativity scene.

I stifled a laugh.

JC lay there, whimpering like a child, although he had not broken anything and was not bleeding. It was at that moment, I knew I was done with him and his issues. I stuck it out until the next night, when he was too scared to drive me to the subway alone, so his mother came with us.

A few days later, I finally told JC that I couldn't continue with the relationship. He had too many problems, both emotionally and physically, and he needed to take care of himself before he could be with anyone. After much crying (on his part), we went our separate ways.

Somehow, JC and I have managed to remain friends over the years, mostly via e-mail and recently, Facebook. His back problems have become worse, and he has to walk with a cane, as there is no surgery that can help him. He did, however, finally meet and marry a girl who seems perfect for him, and I couldn't be happier for them.

To this day, I can't help but think about poor baby Jesus; how close he came to an early demise.

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