[ This is part 2 of The Becca Affair. To read the first part go here ]

My dumbass was locked up in Thomaston county jail for criminal trespassing and public drunk. I was nowhere near drunk but I guess the odor of Steel Reserve and Dumbass was enough for the Thomaston county cop to make that assumption.

He asked me, “yew Becca Willis’ boyfriend?“. Thinking I actually had a friend in law enforcement I blurted out, “Yesssir!”.

I totally fucked myself. Apparently, this cop had a thing for Becca. It’s a small town and she’s a hot piece of country girl ass, so I don’t blame him. However, in his Kentucky-fried brain he saw me as a threat. He tightened the handcuffs and whisked my skinny ass off to the same jail Patrick spent a night at a week prior.

So get this. I’m in jail. Becca and Patrick are technically homeless, broke, and now without their Criss Angel-psychic-master planning dumbass – me. I totally thought I was going to do the minimum 45 day jail stint. When all of a sudden the Wonderkid Patrick cons his grandparents out of $1,000. $500 of that he used to bail my skinny ass out of jail. He could have left me in Thomaston and booked it to Virginia by himself. Instead, like a trained Navy Seal, he never leaves a man behind. He graciously financed my bail and Becca picked me up at the county jail three hours later with a hand-written Hallmark card and a cold Steel Reserve.

Becca and Patrick were adamant about leaving Thomaston, Georgia ASAP. I didn’t know why but I soon found out. I wrote about that portion of our journey on the Nick’s a fugitive portion of my Georgia debacle.

We left Thomaston on November 13th and landed in beautiful Chesapeake, Virginia on the 14th. It was a rainy, cold, dreary day, but that couldn’t have stopped us from being excited. Even with bounty hunters on our ass harassing Becca about Patrick and me, we were optimistic. Virginia was just as beautiful as I imagined. Granted, you could have dropped me at Leavenworth and it would have been nicer than Thomaston, GA.

Welcome to Virginia, Nick.

In my mind’s eye I thought Virginia would be the turning point for Becca and I. I know that seems gullible and stupid (and I am), but I couldn’t help but see the optimism in living in a beautiful new place. And Virginia was especially gorgeous. Fall was setting and I was setting on making Virginia a home. Becca somehow showed up on the doorstep of her parent’s house with me in tow and gave us a new beginning. Her step-dad, Jeff, was very cautious of me because he knew Becca and her inability to follow through on promises. Regardless, I forged a very deep friendship with him that still carries to this day. Somehow, Becca had welcomed herself back into her parent’s house and I was a welcomed guest. I gotta give Becca credit where credit is due: that girl can sell salt to a slug. On a rainy November she showed up (unexpected) with two cats, me, and a garage full of belongings and somehow made it a home for all of us. Her parents must really love her.

To keep the elaborate hoax that Becca was actually forthright and sincere with her efforts to find employment (which she sold to her mom and step-dad as a condition of us living under their roof), she went to Home Depot in the rain and got an application and found out the name of the hiring manager. This was more work than she did in Thomaston so I was sold, too. Too bad I was buying into a load of Becca bullshit.

Once Becca’s family accepted her and I into their home (happily, I might add), I got on my grind. Becca lived in a housing district that was four miles in both directions of anything employable. I could go left and walk to the Harris Teeter, 7-11, and nail salon or I could go right and hike up the hill to the Bloom, Hardee’s and Farm Fresh. Like I did in Thomaston, I didn’t waste any time applying for jobs and utilizing my resume to attract potential employers. I’d walk in to a store, talk to the manager, secure an interview with HR and promptly present myself on interview day. I was routinely walking 8-10 miles a day looking for work. Becca’s family realized this and allowed me access to the family van probably out of pity. I had a drivers license and a brain so I could drive… Becca had none of those so I ended up driving both of us.

The entire time Becca feigned illness. The first week she couldn’t look for work because she was sick. The second week was because she had the flu. The third week it was because of the Avian Bird Flu epidemic and Herpes Simplex 10. Whatever the excuse was, she had it. Yet, when the movie Twilight came out she was as fit and healthy as an Olympic competitor. Becca’s step dad had offered me a job to mow the back yard for $100. I jumped at the opportunity to make money because I’m the opposite of Becca (lazy), yet he failed to mention his back yard is the size of most high school football fields. Mix that with the fact I never operated a lawn mower, rake, or John Deere tractor, and you got yourself one comedic looking white boy trying to make $100 pretending to be a landscaper. It took a day but I got the hang of it. On the third day I finished up Jeff’s (Becca’s step dad) yard and he handed me five $20 bills. Right away, Becca was like, “OMG!!! I WANNA GO SEE TWILIGHT!! WE CAN CATCH THE MIDNIGHT SHOWING!! PLEASE -I’LL SUCK YO DICK- PLEASE PLEASE!!!”.

I took the lazy bitch to see Twilight A DAY before it opened. I drove to Norfolk in the family van because Becca would have probably ninja kicked and trampled a disabled veteran to see Twilight. If I was any kind of smart man I would have taken the hint that Becca is probably an idiot right then and there, but I’m not very sharp. We watched Edward and Bella screen fuck each other for 95 minutes and went back home. I think I fucked Becca that night and I swear if I used my vampire canines and said, “veel yew be myyy Bellllaa???” I probably could have extracted her first born.

The movie theater we went to was in a mall somewhere in Norfolk that had free truffles and I liked it a lot. I guess Becca looked around at all the money we didn’t have and thought to herself, “maybe I should get a fucking job“. Being that her brain only works on two cylinders (what can I get for free AND what can I do to get free stuff without doing anything?), she decided to work in the mall somewhere. In the meantime, I was hired at a Bloom grocery store as the closing grocery manager literally 4 miles away from the house. Gooooo Niiiiick!!!!!

Using my new found success story I decided to inspire Becca to get off her lazy ass and find a job. I wrote her a five page Notepad message explaining how she could better her life by taking initiative. No one was going to hand her a free meal ticket if she sat around all day. I offered my help every step of the way. No way am I going to ask my girlfriend to do something that I’m not willing to do tenfold. She took my five page advice/spreadsheet and put it under the sink in the bathroom. I guess she was going to read it when she took a shit or one of her trademark forty-five minute baths, but I didn’t get my hopes up.

That weekend we walked around the mall and she tried to get a job at clothing places she had friends at. Her entire perspective was, “I want to work here because I get a discount“. My entire perspective was, “work here and make a fucking paycheck you little spoiled brat”. Out of 15 places she got applications from, only one stood out as a potentially worthwhile job (the one I suggested, of course). Victoria’s Secret. My logic was, “listen, they only hire beautiful women or gay guys, you’re a beautiful woman and you love lingerie so why not? Tell them that”. Boom, interview on the spot. Some times I’m too intelligent for my own sexiness.

Becca wanted to go back to school at TCC (Tidewater Community College) so I thought this was a beautiful beginning to an otherwise positive start. I would work full time at Bloom doing my grocery manager BS and she could borrow the family van (when she got her license back) to go to the mall 15 miles away to work her $8/hr job at Victoria’s Secret and somehow balance school in the mix.

I rode with her to her interview and she was a total bitch the entire way. Nice Becca had the day off and bi-polar Becca apparently was working overtime. We literally fought about nothing in particular until we got to the door of the mall (her mom had dropped us off), and she said to me, “why are you even here? You don’t even need to be here!”. I was THERE because I support my girlfriend and I wanted to be the first person to high five her when she aced her interview. She tells me, “fuck that, I will call my mom and I’ll get a ride when I’m done”, potentially leaving me at the mall 15 miles from home in a city where I don’t know anyone. And if anyone says I didn’t put up with shit with my girlfriends, they haven’t been in the proverbial Porta-Potty of my relationshits in terms of dealing with Becca.

But like bi-polar clockwork, Becca came out of her Victoria’s Secret interview like Queen shit on Turd Mountain. I was ready to punch her for being a cuntstick yet I had to realize her mind was a spinning miasma of clustershit. She looked at me all innocently and said, “you look hungry. I got some money on me. Let’s go get some thing to eat”. I shrugged off my frustrations and went with the flow. It was rare when she was even tempered so I was soaking it up.

We were waiting for her friend at the mall to get off work while I was eating the $1 cheeseburger she bought for me. I noticed the playpen in the mall right next to the McDonalds. I was looking at Becca. I was looking at the playpen. I almost felt like I was looking at my future if I stayed with this girl. She’d be eating and my dumbass would be in the playpen with our twenty illegitimate kids because Becca doesn’t know the meaning of birth control.

Days after nailing the Victoria’s Secret interview Becca is somehow sick again. Any time Becca has to do anything she’s sick. She must be allergic to responsibility. Becca woke me up at 10am and requires hospital care. I’m no George Clooney but I can tell that Becca doesn’t belong in the E.R. Her mom politely asks me to escort Becca to the E.R. which is 22 miles away. I do it because I’m a dutiful boyfriend. I help Becca and her bronchial/sinus infection into the E.R. and take a seat. While Becca is out smoking a cigarette the doctors call her name. I have to fetch my cancer-enthusiast girlfriend to get treatment for her bronchial infection that surely isn’t being helped by the cancer stick she’s puffing on. The entire time I’m telling her she isn’t going to die and that she has a regular cold, but nah… Becca is smarter than me.

At the hospital the nurse is snooty with Becca and tells her exactly what I told her: she has a sinus infection and she needs some antibiotics. Becca bitches at me because the physician’s assistant has an attitude. That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.

I take Becca home from the E.R. to the Wal-Mart to fill her prescription for super-Sudafed. Becca reminds me that she got her contacts through her mom’s insurance and needs a contact-lens case and the stuff that comes with it. Being the ever diligent and thieving boyfriend, I pocket her “necessities” for her because we’re dead broke as usual. I drop her off at the house and park the van. I come back in and she doesn’t even say thank you. It’s 5pm in the evening and I’ve been chauffeuring this little pretentious bitch around all day and I don’t get a thank you? Especially when I drop her off and go, “you’re welcome, princess”. I know it’s a dick move but I’m not Miss Daisy and I don’t look anything like Morgan Freeman. She saunters into the house and yells back, “thank you? I COULD HAVE ASKED MY MOM TO DRIVE ME!!!”. Yet, her mom asked me to help her bi-polar and psychosomatic daughter feign her fake illness… hmm, yeah, Becca, I’ll ask your mom next time so I don’t have to deal with your selfish antics.

Becca is coughing up phlegm and looking like a cancer patient so she asks me for some Theraflu. Using the last $6 I had, I asked to borrow the family van to go to the store to get her some medicine. On my way out the door she says to me (in front of her step-dad), “Make sure to get my medicine instead of spending all your money on BEER!“. I look at Jeff and he shakes his head and puts his eyes down. Here I am spending the money I earned on this bitch and she’s snapping at me about beer? I had drank one time in two weeks and she’s being an unnecessary bitch about my boozing? It took everything in my power not to drag her bitchy little ass out in the yard and beat the flying fuck out of her. She wants to whine and cry about feeling bad? Well, I’ll give her something to whine and cry about. Instead I shrugged it off on her being sick. Once again, Nick patience was in full effect.

Becca’s mental ability to be anything but a fucking cunt was deteriorating quickly into SuperCunt status. One night we were talking back and forth via AIM because communicating with Becca is like exchanging grunts with a wild razorback. I told her I was thoroughly depressed about my life. Instead of nurturing and supporting me through a tough personal time, Becca did the complete opposite. Using her whore logic she figured that if she hides my shoes (so I can’t leave), spits water on my face, rips a magazine out of my hands, and holds me down that I’ll be cured of my depression. No seriously… this is what she did. After an hour of trying to ignore her and avoid getting angry, I finally snapped. Becca went airborne. The minute I threw her across the living room and looked her in the eyes and said, “Don’t you EVER touch me like that again, do you understand ME?”, she bolted into the garage with her cell phone and called one of my best friends and told him, literally, that I was suicidal. Yeah, I was. Living with Becca was pushing me closer and closer to murdering her and then taking a KFC spork and stabbing my jugular vein.

The next day I actually felt bad about what happened. I might be a total dickface but I’m not an abusive person, regardless of what Becca thinks. She’s the type of toxic person that gets a thrill out of pushing people’s buttons. I’m not talking about being condescending and sarcastic without limits (she does that, too), but literally pushing people to the brink of their own sanity. I don’t care how much anger management training you might have, you wouldn’t last a month around Becca without pulling out your hair or becoming a full fledged alcoholic in the process.

Becca and I had another argument where things got to the brink of being physical. This time I called Patrick and he picked up. “Dude… you gotta come over and get me out of here. I’m going to fucking kill her… seriously”. I grabbed my iPod and met Patrick down the street. I was so angry I was shaking. He asked me what happened.

“I came home from looking for a job because the Bloom thing didn’t work out. Becca had found a job taking care of disabled kids and was telling me all about getting a van for us and her new life, completely unaware about all the negative things she was saying to me in the process. We were in her parent’s bathroom while she was fixing her hair and she asked me why I was miserable. I had just got back from walking over ten miles for seven hours looking for a job to no avail only to come home to little Miss Pretentious. The job she got was given to her. She didn’t even need to look for anything. She sat on her ass and got a job and was rubbing it in my face. So I told her the truth. I told her I didn’t appreciate her condescending tone. I calmly explained that her attitude was getting worse and I became her go-to target for verbal and physical abuse. I asked her politely to stop. And what does Becca do? She takes a metal comb and points it in my face and screams, “You shut up and listen to me, Nick Sterling. I’m—” and that’s when I snatched the comb out of her hands. I’m 25 years old and light years more intelligent than her, yet she thinks she can talk down to me like I’m a kid? Fuck that non-sense. So she begins yammering about me being a little boy, a loser, and finally caps it off by taking me off her friends list on Myspace, changing her profile from “In A Relationship” to Single and then writing me a message that says, “Fuck you, die slow”.

That’s when I called you bro… “

Have you ever been so angry, frustrated, and to the brink of mass murder because of someone else’s selfishness? That’s how I felt. How dare this woman refuse to even listen to my honest and fair assessments of her personality and then try and turn it back on me. She flew me out here to change her life for the better, not become the bullseye for her bi-polar tendencies. I wasn’t having it any more. I guess Becca thought she could make the shituation worse because she told all of her friends that I abused her, including her mom and Jeff. What Becca was unaware of is that I spoke to both her parents about the two times we got physical and I told them what happened. Becca tried to tell them I was abusive, a manipulator, and all kinds of sordid tales to paint me in a bad light. Her original aim was to get me kicked out. She did all of this the day I had a job interview at 8am. I was with Patrick picking up clothes and talking to her step-dad when she called from a Waffle House telling me to leave and basically kicking me out. Her step dad told me not to worry about it because he was use to Becca’s ranting and raving lunacy and delusions of power.

Patrick took me to a beautiful hookah bar somewhere in Virginia Beach and I smoked away my frustrations. Earlier that night I made probably one of the best decisions of my life. I called my editor (who helps manage my web site) and asked him to get a hold of my mom and let her know I was OK. All the events with Becca had trickled down to my mom and my friends in California. All of them were worried because they knew that Becca’s mentality was see-sawing between rationality and madness. My mom told my editor that she wanted me back home ASAP away from the psycho bitch. That moment I said “yes” and got a hold of Becca via email. “Tell Jeff to buy the ticket”. I had previously spoke to her step dad and asked him if shit really got bad between Becca and I, may I borrow the money for a one way plane ticket to get the hell out of Dodge. He gladly agreed and that’s what I chose to do. The entire time I guess Becca was trying to explain to her parents how bad of a guy I was, which is funny because her siblings loved me, the step dad thought I was great, and her mom is a wonderful and strong woman that has a good judge of character. If I was any bit as bad as Becca portrayed me as they would have seen it for themselves.

Once the plane ticket was bought and paid for I had a week and a half to lounge around and avoid Becca. I promised her step dad that I wouldn’t engage her at all. My logic was the lit fuse to ignite her crazy, and no one could control Becca when she would go on her polarizing tirades.

I thought it was funny because one morning I was up (I stayed up all night talking to Kaitlyn and slept while Becca was at work. It was my only peaceful time to rest), and Becca’s mom encouraged Becca to call a psychiatrist. Becca freaked out claiming her mom was trying to have her committed. It’s 7am and Becca is yelling and making up things like a crazy person. I was laying on the sofa and I glanced over at her mom and cracked a coy smile. Becca finally relented and made the call but apparently everybody in Virginia was crazy because of the economy or whatnot because she was put on a waiting list to see a mental health clinician. I wanted to call that number back and say, “LOOK! I GOT A GENUINE CASE OF CRAZY HERE AND SHE IS DRIVING ME CRAZY! SEND SOMEONE NOW!!!”.

The last week of me living in Chesapeake, Virginia played out like a Mexican soap opera. Depending on the day, Becca was either very loving or completely batshit insane. On one of the nice days she took this picture of me with our cats:

The rest of the time she was a thundercunt of epic proportions. What’s funny is that Becca thinks Becca is smarter than most people. And in some respects she is, but being intelligent and applying intellect are two very different things. I guess Becca was being sneaky and thought she could get away with it because she was interested in this Bohemian bum who lived in a van. She spent the night with him in the van apparently “playing board games”. Riiiight. This was a matter of days after officially ending our relationship and me finalizing my move back to San Diego. She couldn’t wait a week and a half to bang someone? She tried to hide it but I read her text messages on her phone (I was trying to call Kaitlyn) and that verified what I had assumed: she was interested and sexually attracted to van bum guy. Someone needs to call James Bond and tell him that Rebecca Willis is taking his job, because she’s so fucking clever!

Becca would routinely bring her friends over while I was on the computer praying for the arrival of my departure date. All of them thought I was a monster because she told them I was abusive or something of the sort. She’s the type of person to say anything to make herself look less of a dumbass. She didn’t realize that slandering me only reflected poorly on herself. You fly a guy across the country, screw him over in Georgia, and then claim he’s an abuser and you didn’t know this already? It’s not like we didn’t date once already. Kaitlyn wanted to beat her ass because she lurked on Myspace how Becca was saying that I was physically abusive, etc. All the while painting a picture of innocence. I might have thrown her ass across the living room but she failed to mention how she hid my shoes, HELD ME DOWN, spat water in my face, and ripped up the magazine I was reading all while daring me to hit her. I bet she forgot to mention that to her parents when she tried to kick me out.

It was funny seeing Becca with her friends watch my best friend, Josh Dunn from MTV’s A Double Shot At Love on TV and saying, “yeah, that’s my friend, err Nick’s best friend. I TALKED TO HIM!!!”.

Even though Becca had a job taking care of children with ACC, I thought it was really the children taking care of her. She would go out and get drunk at night and stumble home after midnight, slur something offensive at Jeff or I, and then crash out. Her mom would have to wake her up in the morning and she was a GRIZZLY BEAR. Waking up Becca required nothing short of a cattle prod and full body armor. You could wake her up and tell her she won the lottery and she’d still punch you in the face and call you a cock muffin.

On my second to last day in Virginia Patrick took me out for beers. We probably drove around Great Bridge, Greenbriar, and Chesapeake ten times, but I didn’t care. He let me drink my fears away. We called Kaitlyn and the three of us probably had the best time of our lives drinking, swapping stories, and being reckless. Even though Becca had ruined my high expectations of Virginia, she couldn’t take the good times I had with Patrick away from me. Thanks to Becca I met a life long friend and certified life saver, regardless of how much he asks me not to say that. Without Patrick I would have probably killed Becca, been left to rot in a Thomaston jail cell, and lost all my worldly belongings. For every failure there is at least one success story. I had two: meeting and befriending Patrick and walking away from Becca, from Virginia, and from a toxic relationship that began to negatively define my life.

On the ride to the airport Jeff told me, “You’re a good man, Nick. Too good for Becca. Don’t let her bring you down. Get on that plane and accomplish all the things you are destined to do. If you ever need a reference, helping hand, or assistance, call me. Otherwise don’t look back and the sky is the limit for you”.

I haven’t looked back since.