I'm really not having a good Monday. I'm feeling terribly about something that happened this weekend, over which I had some control, but was not my fault. I'm not looking for anyone to tell me I did the right thing, or that he did it to himself. I know all that. But this is part of what is playing on my melancholy mood today...
There are a multitude of reasons why Steve and I are no longer together, and most of them are illustrated in this event. Saturday morning, he called me to say that the engine in his truck blew up. This did not surprise me at all, as vehicle maintenance is not a priority for him. I told him that I was at work, unable to leave, and that since he had helped Cynthia out in the past, to call her. She was off. She got him to work.
He called me a little later, wanting me to run him up to Dalton, GA, after I got off work to get another vehicle. That is about 2 ½ hours away, on the other side of Atlanta. I got off on Saturday at 7pm and had to be back at 7am yesterday. I had to say, "No." He called back to say he had found another vehicle on this side of town, and to never mind.
On Friday, I somehow managed to lose my keys. I have no clue where they could have gone. Fortunately, I had my spare car keys in my purse, and my master keys to the building, so I was good in every respect except getting in my house. Well, Steve still has a key to the house, and I asked him to come let me in my house and let me have the key. So he said he'd meet me at the house. Meanwhile, Cynthia got home, and I took her key, and after an hour or so, I didn't think about him bringing the key. He is/was famous for taking his time, and for not showing up. I took an Ambien and went to bed.
I had just drifted off when my land line rang. It was Steve. He said he was on his way to bring me the key when he got pulled over by the police. It took my drug befuddled brain a few minutes to comprehend that he was telling me that he was being pulled over at that precise moment. The officer hadn't even approached the car yet. I asked him how much he'd had to drink. He swore it was only one beer while still at the shop, and not even all of it, that he had spilled some of it on himself working on his vehicle. I've known this man for 25+ years. I knew better. I had warned him repeatedly in the past that I would not, and ethically could not, come get him if he was arrested. I think he was hoping I wouldn't let it get to that point.
I heard the officer - one of my co-workers - approach the vehicle and identify himself. Steve handed him the phone. I said, "Hey Brent. It's Darya." He was a little taken aback, but I explained that I knew Steve was gonna drop my name and that he was to cut him no slack on my behalf. If he needed to take that ride, and would have taken it were he not a friend of mine, he was to take that ride. I told him what he told me about how much he'd had to drink. He said he'd be in touch. Apparently, he tried to call my cell phone later on, but it was in the kitchen, so I didn't get the details until yesterday afternoon.
Brent said that he started the field sobriety tests, and that Steve kept messing up, catching himself and starting over again. He nearly fell into traffic twice. When he got done with that, he put him on the Breathalyzer. That's the one you blow in on the side of the road, not the legal test. He blew a .09. The legal limit in Georgia is .08. He asked him if he knew this, and Steve said he did, then offered up his wrists for the handcuffs. He told Brent that he had only had part of the one that he poured out on the side of the road - in front of the officers - and had only drank that in the last mile or so he had driven.
By the time they had his vehicle towed, and taken him to the jail, he registered almost .11 on the Intoxilyzer (the legal breath alcohol test) at the jail. As most people know, and ALL cops know, this is impossible. He charged him with DUI and "Open Container".
Brent said that he was a nice guy who gave him no problems, and that he almost felt bad locking him up. But said he kept reminding himself that I was okay with it. Like I said, I had warned him repeatedly that he WOULD get caught, it was just a matter of time. He said that he kept referring to me as his "girlfriend." This elicits a groan out of me, as we haven't been together for nearly a year, and he moved out in October.
Here is where I feel badly: According to "JailTrack", our connection with the county Sheriff's Department which runs the jails in Georgia, he is still in there. Hasn't made bond. I think this might be because his cell phone is in his truck, and he doesn't even have my phone numbers memorized, forget those of his boss. And I don't think he has told his parents that we broke up - since he's not even admitting it to himself at this point - and is probably embarrassed to call them. While it's been over 20 years since the last one, this is his 4th DUI. But I had told him a LONG time ago that I wouldn't bail him out. And since I had taken the Ambien, I wasn't fit to drive either. And I had told him a hundred times, that if he ever needed a ride, I would do that for him. I guess since I had refused to go to Dalton, he didn't want to call me for that either. So, I'm feeling badly today about something that I had no control over. He wasn't locked up on my say-so. If he hadn't called, he still would have taken that ride because he was drunk.
There are a multitude of reasons why Steve and I are no longer together, and most of them are illustrated in this event. Saturday morning, he called me to say that the engine in his truck blew up. This did not surprise me at all, as vehicle maintenance is not a priority for him. I told him that I was at work, unable to leave, and that since he had helped Cynthia out in the past, to call her. She was off. She got him to work.
He called me a little later, wanting me to run him up to Dalton, GA, after I got off work to get another vehicle. That is about 2 ½ hours away, on the other side of Atlanta. I got off on Saturday at 7pm and had to be back at 7am yesterday. I had to say, "No." He called back to say he had found another vehicle on this side of town, and to never mind.
On Friday, I somehow managed to lose my keys. I have no clue where they could have gone. Fortunately, I had my spare car keys in my purse, and my master keys to the building, so I was good in every respect except getting in my house. Well, Steve still has a key to the house, and I asked him to come let me in my house and let me have the key. So he said he'd meet me at the house. Meanwhile, Cynthia got home, and I took her key, and after an hour or so, I didn't think about him bringing the key. He is/was famous for taking his time, and for not showing up. I took an Ambien and went to bed.
I had just drifted off when my land line rang. It was Steve. He said he was on his way to bring me the key when he got pulled over by the police. It took my drug befuddled brain a few minutes to comprehend that he was telling me that he was being pulled over at that precise moment. The officer hadn't even approached the car yet. I asked him how much he'd had to drink. He swore it was only one beer while still at the shop, and not even all of it, that he had spilled some of it on himself working on his vehicle. I've known this man for 25+ years. I knew better. I had warned him repeatedly in the past that I would not, and ethically could not, come get him if he was arrested. I think he was hoping I wouldn't let it get to that point.
I heard the officer - one of my co-workers - approach the vehicle and identify himself. Steve handed him the phone. I said, "Hey Brent. It's Darya." He was a little taken aback, but I explained that I knew Steve was gonna drop my name and that he was to cut him no slack on my behalf. If he needed to take that ride, and would have taken it were he not a friend of mine, he was to take that ride. I told him what he told me about how much he'd had to drink. He said he'd be in touch. Apparently, he tried to call my cell phone later on, but it was in the kitchen, so I didn't get the details until yesterday afternoon.
Brent said that he started the field sobriety tests, and that Steve kept messing up, catching himself and starting over again. He nearly fell into traffic twice. When he got done with that, he put him on the Breathalyzer. That's the one you blow in on the side of the road, not the legal test. He blew a .09. The legal limit in Georgia is .08. He asked him if he knew this, and Steve said he did, then offered up his wrists for the handcuffs. He told Brent that he had only had part of the one that he poured out on the side of the road - in front of the officers - and had only drank that in the last mile or so he had driven.
By the time they had his vehicle towed, and taken him to the jail, he registered almost .11 on the Intoxilyzer (the legal breath alcohol test) at the jail. As most people know, and ALL cops know, this is impossible. He charged him with DUI and "Open Container".
Brent said that he was a nice guy who gave him no problems, and that he almost felt bad locking him up. But said he kept reminding himself that I was okay with it. Like I said, I had warned him repeatedly that he WOULD get caught, it was just a matter of time. He said that he kept referring to me as his "girlfriend." This elicits a groan out of me, as we haven't been together for nearly a year, and he moved out in October.
Here is where I feel badly: According to "JailTrack", our connection with the county Sheriff's Department which runs the jails in Georgia, he is still in there. Hasn't made bond. I think this might be because his cell phone is in his truck, and he doesn't even have my phone numbers memorized, forget those of his boss. And I don't think he has told his parents that we broke up - since he's not even admitting it to himself at this point - and is probably embarrassed to call them. While it's been over 20 years since the last one, this is his 4th DUI. But I had told him a LONG time ago that I wouldn't bail him out. And since I had taken the Ambien, I wasn't fit to drive either. And I had told him a hundred times, that if he ever needed a ride, I would do that for him. I guess since I had refused to go to Dalton, he didn't want to call me for that either. So, I'm feeling badly today about something that I had no control over. He wasn't locked up on my say-so. If he hadn't called, he still would have taken that ride because he was drunk.
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