Is It Still Right If It Feels So Wrong?

Work isn’t working for me today so I leave early. On the way home DG calls. I fake that I’m not feeling well and promise to call him this weekend. This isn’t a total lie. I mean, my head is a mess and I feel like I could vomit. MOB, FB, DG…what’s a girl to do? How do I get myself into these shitty situations all the time? Everything about MOB and I together is wrong and I am well aware of that but it doesn’t change the fact that I love him and when I’m with him (and he’s being old MOB) there’s no place in the world I would rather be. But those moments are few and far between and when the pain outweighs the joy, one has got to be rational.

Vagina Jane picks me up and we head out. I try my best but my hearts not in it. I feel like FB is not being his usual self either. I’m not feeling the love from him that I usually do. Then again, I’m not letting him give me the love. I sit in the corner watching the game, getting up when it’s my turn or to get another drink. I watch him and think about the advice my friend Sca gave me earlier today when I told her about the situation. She asked if I really cared about FB or if he was just a brilliant distraction from MOB. She said I had to figure out if MOB wasn’t in the picture if I would want to be with FB. Honestly, watching him, I didn’t know. I knew he was probably the guy that I SHOULD want to be with but that wasn’t really the point. I didn’t want to use him to rebound from MOB.

The Most Dangerous Four Letter Word...FRIENDS

It’s nearly midnight when MOB shows up. We had agreed to talk and swap belongings back to their rightful owners. Things fall apart quickly. I jump right to the point and ask about her. He actually has the audacity to laugh. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad because you think I’m with her?!” His laughter fuels my anger and it’s easier to fight back my tears now. He’s given me no reason but to believe the rumors I’ve heard and what I’ve seen. I begin to tell him that it’s more than that and I deserve better but he blows a gasket before I can finish. He’s not with her. Everyone knows he’s not with her and I’m listening to people who don’t know what they’re talking about. He can’t believe I don’t trust him. I point out a couple examples of times he’s lied to me. This doesn’t help. MOB says that maybe I’d be better off if he wasn’t in my life anymore and that it would be easier for me. He begins to storm away and suddenly I can’t hold the tears any more. “Stop!” I begin to cry as he turns around and looks at me. “What do you want?” I ask him. He comes back. “I want what will make you happy.” That’s a copout. What would he have if he had a choice? He says he can’t imagine not having me in his life. He’s not prepared to even entertain the thought but he can’t be the guy I need him to be. And that leaves us where?

I hear the words but I can’t believe their coming out of my mouth. I explain that even though I love him more than anything in the world that maybe we’d be better off as friends. We both stop. Neither one of us can handle the word. We think of what it would mean, how it would apply to us. I cry harder. He holds me. “I wanna start over.” I look up at him and he continues. “Maybe we went to fast last time. What if we start with a clean slate? We’ll be friends and take things slow and see where it goes.” Although I don’t know how one just erases the fact that they’re already in love and have given almost a year of their lives to each other, it sounds much better than the alternative. I know I can’t quit MOB cold turkey tonight, no matter how good my threats sounded.

And suddenly, we’re fine. We’re our old selves. We’re happy and laughing and relaxed again. And we’re looking at each other like the very first night we realized we were in love. We reminisce about the good times we’ve shared. Almost surprised by how many there were. Lately, they had seemed so few and far between we had almost forgotten that we had them at all. “I can’t believe we’ve only known each other for a year.” We had gone through so much in such a short amount of time, one would’ve thought it had been five years. “I’ve known you longer than a year, boo.” I laugh. “No you haven’t. We met on Halloween last year. I have pictures to prove it.” He smiles and takes my hand. “I’ve known you my whole life. Before I knew you, I knew of you and dreamed of you. And I knew someday I would find you.” Whoa. I can’t help but kiss him, like an old friend, on the lips. This is the guy I fell in love with. This is the guy who’s been MIA for the last few months. Remember that, fool.

4 AM

We’re sitting side-by-side, limbs draped lazily over one another, listening to music and smiling. Occasionally we speak but then we just listen and steal glances at each other. We’re at peace and it’s been a long time. Our song comes on. We share a look. He leans over and kisses me and then pulls away. “Sorry, friends don’t do that. I forgot.” I lean over and kiss him back. “What if we start being friends tomorrow and tonight have some really awesome breakup sex?”

5 AM

We get dressed and walk out to his car. We’re both smiling but more confused than ever. We hug and it lasts a long time. Have we really just agreed to just be friends? How the hell did this happen?! I walk back upstairs and lie down in my freshly tussled bed, my head swirling with questions and replaying pieces of tonight. And I cry until my alarm goes off and tells me to take my ass to work.

Forget Him Again

It's happened again, you know what it means
when your phone rings this late at night
I'm drunk and alone and I know that you're home
and that you can make everything right.
He hurt me again, the stories the same
although this time he may not return.
my heart feels so dead, there's a pain in my head
you would think that someday I would learn.
I ask to come over, you say it's okay
I hang up and I jump in the car.
I speed down the street, glad you weren't asleep
and thank God that it isn't too far.
I know that you're there when I need you
You've always been my faithful friend
I'm running to you, it's a safety I use
to help me forget him again.
You don't bother me with stupid questions
don't ask me if I'm sure I should stay.
You help me to live, forget and forgive
and push all the storm clouds away.
Your smiles what I need to feel better
I know you won't tell me I'm wrong
just turn off the lights and hold me real tight
and tomorrow I'll wake feeling strong.
Some say it's not right how I use you
but maybe you use me the same
and if both of us know the way that it goes
then we are really not fit for the blame.
So love me down lightly again please
bring the warmth that I so want to find
Your inner peace may come while we sleep
at the same time that I'm finding mine.

I Spy...Someone Kissing

After work I stop and pick up the pictures I had developed. The minute I get to the car I light a cigarette and dig in to see what photos have been captured. I know I didn’t take a single one of the pictures and that Vagina Jane can sometimes have an evil eye behind the lens. People posing at a party, some chicks flashing, our friend Baby Girl streaking through a party booty butt naked except for knee high black stripper boots. And then I see it. Two gigantic heads taking up the whole shot. I sit for a second. Well, it’s pretty obvious that it’s me and I am definitely kissing someone. I stare at the back of the head of the guy and think hard. And then it comes back to me. Holy shit, the first night I kissed FB in the bathroom. I vaguely remembered a huge flash of light in our eyes. That little bitch.

I head up to find FB and show him the pics. He laughs his ass off. He is especially touchy feeling tonight and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We have a some drinks and make our way over to the dart board. Preach bitches that if we’d “stop all that hugging and kissing and focus on darts we’d be a much better team.” FB and I point out that we’re a great team anyway. No one is bringing us down tonight.

One Eye On The Door And Still A Whore

9 AM

You know you had incredible sex the night before when you go to walk him to the door and your knees are wobbling as you down the flight of stairs. My ass muscles burned with every step. Dear God, sleeping with DG once a week could be my new exercise regime. Screw Buns of Steel or Tae Bo. How about Tae Delivery Boy? Crazy James is still passed out on my couch. I ask where Vagina Jane is. He smiles and informs me that she couldn’t sleep through the madness of “marathon man and the ultimate orgasm”. I laugh and head back to bed.

9 PM
Vagina Jane and I sit at the bar sipping our drinks. The DJ blares behind us and the dance floor is crowded with people. She tries to get me to dance but I tell her for the fiftieth time that my thighs aren’t up for any bumping and grinding tonight. She rolls her eyes; not feeling the least bit sorry for me since her man had been gone for months now on tour and her pocket rocket had become her new best friend.

I’m hoping MOB doesn’t show. I’m looking forward to a night that is drama and heart abuse free. When I see his friends arrive without him I breathe a sigh of relief. They instantly surround Vagina Jane and myself, offering to buy us drinks, dance and more than eager to do whatever else we would possibly let them get away. We hold them at drinks. CC convinces Vagina Jane to dance. I watch from the bar, sipping my drink, smoking my square, laughing my ass off as he tries to booty bump her from the back. She sidesteps and he crashes into the large security guard. I laugh so hard a bit of my drink dribbles out the side of my mouth and down the crack of my cleavage. Penguin reaches over with a napkin and tries to help wipe it away with a smile. I take the napkin from him and pat down my breasts myself but thank him for the offer. “Besides,” I tease him “what if MOB walked in and saw you doing that? He’s your boy.” Penguin smiled and told me that MOB wasn’t walking in tonight. He had left town on business this morning. I cheer inside.

Vagina Jane returns after a few songs and we continue to drink and O&R (Observe and Ridicule) those around us. Oh sure, it’s not nice but everyone does it. Don’t pretend that you haven’t pointed someone out to your friend for a laugh. But I still keep an eye on the door. I’m not sure why. Vagina Jane makes fun of me for it. She thinks I’m looking for FB. I scoff at the idea and say I’m hoping my prince charming comes marching in and turn my attention back to the dance floor. Vagina Jane elbows me hard in the ribs. “Oh, I think he just did.” I turn and see FB enter. “Fuck off!” She laughs at me. I don’t look at him. I turn the opposite way and order another drink. But soon I feel his hand on the small of my back and he leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I feign surprise. “Have you been here all night?” He slides onto the stool next to me that I promised to save for Penguin while he ran outside. Oops. He’s dressed nicer than normal and he’s wearing cologne. It tickles my nose and select other areas. “Did you have a hot date tonight, or what?” I tease. He says he was at a party (that Vagina Jane and I opted not to attend) and just got back. It was lame (as we knew it would be) so he thought he’d see if we were down here. That’s right baby, come to mama. I am where the action is.

2 AM

We grab a few friends for after hours (FB included) and head back to my house. We make drinks and smoke and shoot the shit. FB stays close, is hand on my hip and every time he laughs, a gust of warm air blows across my neck. Vagina Jane and Leeker are singing karaoke in the living room . Fill goes inside to make a phone call and finally FB and I are alone outside, leaning against the hot tub, inebriated and horny to boot. His hands glide across my skin and we smile which leads to some serious kissing and groping. Fill comes back outside and instead of seeing that he was interrupting and heading back inside, he lights a black and mild and stands there watching. Fill then says “I guess I know who the third wheel is.” Oh for fucking rude. Ya think? Get a clue, dude!

4:30 AM

Vagina Jane passes out on the couch. Leeker passes out on the floor. Fill says he needs to get going. I look to FB to see what his move will be. He smiles and heads to the bathroom. I think for a second. Did he smile and then decided he had to pee or did he smile and head to the bathroom thinking that maybe I would follow him like I do at the bar? I give him a minute or two in case he really did have to pee. Then I open the door and walk on in, finding him, yet again, washing his hands at the sink. Hey, at least he’s got hygiene unlike some guys I know. Anyway, I shut the door behind me and we begin to make out. I ask him to stay. He says he has to take Fill home. Fill’s transportation home is the least of my fucking concerns right now. His hand up my shirt and tongue on my neck are much more interesting topics of conversation in my opinion. Finally, he pulls away. He has to take his boy home. Normally I would applaud such loyalty but at the moment I’m just pissed and all horned up and wishing Fill could have driven his own damn car. I put on my best sad, pouty puppy dog face. He’s about to cave. I can see it in his eyes and feel it against my leg. I lean in for a kiss, knowing it will seal the deal but he makes it a quick peck and pulls back. He takes my head in his hands and looks me in the eyes. “This…with us…it’s going to happen. It doesn’t have to be tonight. I’m not going anywhere and there’s no reason to hurry.” It takes me a minute to process this. Here I am, literally and physically throwing myself at FB. And I mean, I’m giving him my best stuff. Best smiles, kisses, hair flips, cleavage shots, brushing of hands, you name it. What drunk twenty-eight year old male when locked in a bathroom with a girl does that? FB that’s who. Damn it!

We kiss again. “Be careful,” he warns. “We don’t need Vagina Jane running in and taking any more pictures of us kissing.” I have no idea what he’s talking about. Apparently on top of my ADD I have amnesia.

Special Delivery/I Am A Whore, Stage 2

Vagina Jane and I head to the bar. We are on a mission. The night is young. We are planning on making the most of it. We find Freak Mama, Preach, FB and Crazy J. Drinking, darts, fun and a lot of flirting ensue. I am digging FB again. He doesn’t seem to be mad about my erratic behavior the night before. We pick up where we left off. A great combo, a team, two drunks throwing dangerously pointed objects for an excuse to touch up on each other. I’m okay with that and apparently so is he. Someone suggests the teams are unfair and that we should trade. FB and I immediately put the kibosh on that stupid idea. We are not being separated anymore. It comes around to FB’s turn. I glance around to give him the darts. Preach tells me he’s in the restroom. I again think this is a perfectly normal place to visit him. I find him again by the sink. He spots me in the mirror and laughs. I don’t say anything. I just walk up, hand him the darts and we begin kissing again. What is it with us in the bathroom? I mean the men’s room of this bar is a rancid place with shower curtain doors and naked booby pictures on the walls. But it works for us.

Vagina Jane enters again, at least this time not with a camera, to bitch about our delay of the game. We exit the bathroom and I come face to face with MOB. He glances between FB and me, unsure what to think. I give him a quick smile (kill ‘em with kindness) and then immediately turn my attention back to FB. MOB floats away but not for long. He returns in a few minutes, looks at me with his little smile that usually makes me melt and says, “I loved your messages. So I’m an asshole, huh?” I smile back, seething inside and say “I think I pretty much covered that in the messages.” He laughs and tries to take my hand, unaware that I could actually really, truly be angry at him or mean what I said. “Do you need a drink?” he asks. “And then some.” I eye the lady who is walking through selling roses. MOB heads to the bar to get me my drink. I return to my dart table and friends. Vagina Jane leans over and asks what happened. I give her the recap. She asks what “And then some” means. I tell her, loudly, over the R. Kelly that is pumping through the speaker system, “I want a flower at least!” Play resumes. And the next thing I know FB is standing in front of me with a beautiful red rose. Huh? I’m stumped as to how my fake boyfriend could be so cool and my real one could suck so bad. I give him a kiss and thank him. Did I mention that he’s growing on me? A few minutes later MOB returns with my drink and a flower. I pick up the one I got from FB and smell it, telling him, I already got what I needed from somebody else. This doesn’t go over well yet he seems mildly amused by my actions, thinking I’m playing a hard to get game. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m really sick of his shit. Maybe the rabid bitch within me has been released. Hard to tell at this point.

During a potty break I check my cell. I have 2 new messages and four missed calls, all from DG. Apparently he wants to see me badly, and soon.

Instead of wandering the bar like usual, MOB actually stays close. He obviously doesn’t appreciate being shown up by FB. He is set to mark his territory. He may as well have peed on my leg because it would have been just as subtle as his actions. I am neither encouraging nor discouraging MOB at this point. I’m just taking it all in. FB backs off after watching MOB’s display. I’m too drunk to know what to do at this point. Vagina Jane is no help whatsoever. My head tells me FB is the clear winner. My heart lies and says maybe MOB could change. My stomach is telling me no more Captain Morgan and Coke. LA enters the bar. I pretend not to see him. I have too much shit on my plate right now than to deal with that.

2 AM

FB leaves because he has to get up for work in a few hours. A quick kiss on the cheek, a hug, thanks for the rose and he’s gone. MOB seems satisfied to see him leave. So satisfied that he can now say goodbye to me as well. He’s heading to a party with his boys. I pretend that I’m not bothered to be leaving the bar without either of them. I make my way outside to have a cigarette and wait for Vagina Jane and Crazy James. I’m approached by Jas. He’s cute. He’s seen me up here a couple times. I know this is true because I’ve seen him watching me before. He’s actually kind of funny and charming. We talk for a bit and then Vagina Jane and Crazy James come out and lead me to the parking lot. As I’m getting into the car I hear Jas calling my name. He asks where we’re going. I debate inviting him along. He asks for my number because he wants to take me out. I give it to him and tell him I’ll talk to him later. As we pull away I pick up my phone and dial DG.

2:30 AM

DG shows up at my house. We sit in my room and talk for awhile. I mean, we should know something about each other than he’s a delivery guy and I like to answer the door half naked. We small talk. We talk talk. We laugh. Then I roll on to my side and take it all in. He’s tall. I like that. Well built, even through his shirt I can see some massive muscle mass. Score two. He pulls me in for a kiss. Aggressive, kind of makes me hot. I brush my hand past his crotch. BULLSEYE!! Hello! Red Alert. Break out the magnum’s. It does not look to disappoint…and it doesn’t.

6:30 AM

You know that saying if you sneeze eight times in a row it equals an orgasm? Well if I orgasm one more time at this point, I think I might die. I fear woman are only allotted so many orgasms in their life and that I was using up my entire life supply. I don’t know if DG ate four bowls of Wheaties this morning or if he’s a viagra junkie but after round seven, I was spent. My head was spinning. Perhaps a combination of the booze, the late hour and the incredible sex. He pulled me into his arms with a smile. I returned it and fell asleep within moments. This guy had definitely just won himself backup fake boyfriend status.

I Am Officially A Drunk Stalker

I go to the bar to show off my new ride. Everyone loves it. FB asks for a ride to the store. He is officially my first passenger (because I am not about to count the sales guy with an overabundance of nose hair that test drove it with me). I can tell he digs it. He sits back and makes himself at home. We bump the music and share a few laughs on the short ride to the store and back. This little bastard is growing on me.

We get back and play darts with Preach, Freak Mama and a few friends. All is going well. FB satisfies my ADD well. He is constantly attentive. Smiling, hugging, touching, kisses on the cheeks, pats on the ass. When I’m next to him, I am a goddess. He thinks it and it makes me feel like one. It’s a good feeling…

…Until MOB walks in. Damn it! Hello parade, here comes the rain. It never fails. I try to ignore him but apparently my goddess-like glow is affecting him too and he just has to make his way over. Which means I have to cool off with FB. Why you might ask? Doesn’t MOB deserve to have FB and my glow thrown in his face? Yes, yes, he does. But MOB can have a bit of a temper. He’s never used it on me but I know that he has a reputation for it. And the last thing I want is a confrontation of any sort between him and FB. For FB’s own good my shoulder grows cold and he is the recipient of it. He looks confused and I feel bad but seriously, it’s for the best. I speak to MOB briefly. Trying to stay guarded against his cute smile and lame jokes. I have to be strong.

A little later I come out of the bathroom and MOB is no longer sitting at my table near the dartboard. I continue my game with FB and crew. And then I notice MOB at the end of the bar with her, the “old friend” who seems to keep popping up a lot lately. I wonder to myself if that’s the bitch he was at the hotel with.

DG calls my cell but I don’t answer it. I walk Freak Mama out the back door and to her car. When I return MOB and his old friend are gone. All my suspicions are confirmed. The bar closes and I head home. I detour left instead of right to see if he’s home. I am officially a drunk stalker. His car’s not at his house. It’s not at his brothers. It’s not at the hotel. I assume that it has to be wherever she lives. But he’s not getting off that easily. As I make my way back to his house I decide to call him. It’s the last straw. It’s it. I’m done forever. And it’s time to let him know that.

It goes straight to voicemail, which only fuels my anger even more. I tell him that he’s an asshole and begin to list reasons why such as leaving without saying goodbye, leaving with that girl, lying to me, not calling, not fucking me anymore…BEEP. The machine cuts me off. I call right back. “I wasn’t finished yet! You’re also an asshole because…” And my list continues. I then segue into reasons why we’re over and why it’s too bad he had to be a lying, cheating coward instead of a real man that could just be honest with me as well as himself…BEEP. Mother bitch! I call back again and tell him thanks for nothing, it’s been fun. I add the stinger “it’s mostly my fault anyway for being stupid enough to fall in love with you.” And then hang up before that damn machine can cut me off again. Ha! I win! Even win I lose, in my head, I always win.

I call DG and leave him a drunk message as well. “I’ve been thinking about you all week. Can’t wait to see you.” Hey, who knows? It’s not everyday I answer the door and that happens. Fate could be at work here. With my shitty luck, I can’t afford to burn any bridges. And it never hurts to have a “hot man on call/back up fake boyfriend”. They come in handy for last minute dates, lonely nights, booty calls and my severe case of ADD.

Call Me Shallow But There Are Rules

I head to my date with the super hot record producer. His picture was enough to make me nervous when picking out my outfit. I was actually excited to meet him. We gave great phone and we never ran out of conversation. I knew he wasn’t gay because we flirted with the topic of sex already. (Which, FYI, seems to be a favorite topic among internet daters).

I get to the restaurant and check in with the maitre de. He directs me to the table where my date awaits. He is just as hot as his picture. Thick shoulders, great smile. My heart nearly skips a beat. I approach the table and my date stands and my heart sinks. I had dressed up and wore my heels but even if I flung the over priced Jimmy Choo's into the fish tank, I still had a good three inches on him. Now, this may not sound like the worst thing to some people but I was devastated.

There are three things I can’t get over when choosing a potential mate:

1. Body hair. This must be maintained, groomed and kept to a minimum…not only in visible areas such as head, face, ears, nose and knuckles but “visit-able” areas as well including chest, back and the love below.

2. Height. Must not make me feel like Joan of the Jungle. I like them taller and I can even deal with eye to eye but I don’t want to feel like I’m dating one of Santa’s helpers. Sorry short guys.

3. Snockers. Guys that hock lugies, sniff continuously or what I like to call “snock”(you know that deep sound that resembles a snore except you can actually hear the snot being sucked down the back of their throat). This makes me gag. It gives me the heebies. I once went on a date with a chronic snocker and I actually ended up throwing up at dinner. After the first forty times he snocked I could not take another bite of my egg drop soup. I would walk out on LL Cool J or Brad Pitt if they snocked during our date. Point taken? Thank you.

A Glass Of Impulse Anyone?

ADD has set in again. I need to get my mind off of MOB. I call Rock and we talk but it’s not the same. He can’t just drive over when he’s across the country. It makes me feel worse. I don’t yet feel like calling DG. The shirts have lost their fun. I need something new. Something big. Something that fits my ever-blossoming personality. I go buy a brand new car. Yep, that should do it. Now, I am the real deal. The full package. I got the sex appeal, the nice home, hot wardrobe, huge tits and a sweet car. What about me is not to love?

Keep 'Em Hanging

I finally call DG (delivery guy) back. He’s sweet. Says he had almost given up on me but couldn’t forget my pretty face. Was wondering if he could see me sometime soon. I tell him I’ll call again.

Post One Night Stand-Guilt Free

I don’t feel bad the next morning. I mean, my head is pounding like hell and I have a case of cottonmouth that may never be squelched, but I don’t feel guilty for what happened with LA. In fact, it’s a bit invigorating. Yes, I used LA and that probably wasn’t the nicest thing I ever did. But really, it depends on how you look at it. Was it better to let him want for me day after day or to give him one night that he can always remember? Yes, I too think I did him a favor. I am a good Samaritan. I’m a giver. I did something nice for someone. When was the last time someone did something nice for me? Well, I’ll do something nice for me then. I go shopping. I buy a few shirts. I feel better now that I’ve been rewarded. I throw in a haircut just for fun. MOB loves my long hair and twirling his fingers through the blonde ends. I have the lady take off four inches and add red highlights.

I head to dinner with an online cutie. He’s not gay. He’s good-looking and has a brilliant career in law. Unfortunately, he forgets I have eyes and talks to my tits during our entire conversation. Although I’m not hungry, I order an appetizer, the lobster and a bottle of wine. He doesn’t even flinch. Whatever the breasts want, the breasts get. While he drools over my chest, I spend the rest of dinner staring at the mole on the left side of his neck, just above his collar. I name it Gerald.

I Am A Whore, Stage 1

I see two of MOB’s friends. One asks me where he is. I inform him that he’s asking the wrong woman and that I haven’t heard from him. He makes some lame ass excuse for him. For once, I don’t buy it. Friend Two has a different approach. I step out for a cigarette and he follows. He thinks I’m a great girl and doesn’t want me to get my heart broken but there’s something I should know…

He drives me down the street to the tasteless La Mirada hotel and points to MOB’s car which sits in the parking lot. My mind races. And then, it goes completely blank. “Take me back to the bar.” And he does.

After he gets done outing his homey and I think I can’t stand to hear another word, he takes it to a whole different level. I’ve been grieving for like four minutes here and he looks at me as we walk back into the bar and says, “So, you know, if you and MOB are done, maybe you and I could hook-up sometime.” I stare. “Aren’t you married?” He smiles. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” Are you fucking kidding me?!? Am I on Punk’d? Candid Camera? When Bad Things Happen To Good Girls? What the hell is going on here?

I walk back in possessed like Marlena on Days of Our Lives. Some girl looks at me funny. “What the fuck are you looking at, bitch?” She is first shocked and then pissed that I just called her out. She steps towards me but two of my friends intercept her and make sure she keeps her ass quiet if she knows what’s good for her. I watch and laugh.

Never in my life have I felt this way. I’m bad ass. I’m a gangsta. I’m a strong fuckin’ woman who will not get fucked over again. I am King Kong, Satan and Julia Roberts in “Pretty Woman” rolled into one. No one is messing with me tonight.

Except for FB. He makes his way to my side to make sure I’m okay and to calm me down. Although he doesn’t understand what is going on, he’s concerned. I don’t explain it to him despite his questions. But his caring is starting to make me soft and I don’t want to feel anything tonight, especially vulnerable. And I don’t want to believe a thing coming out of any person with a penis’s mouth. I see LA’s truck pull up outside. I give FB a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I’ll see him tomorrow.

I slip out the door, past Preach and my girls and MOB’s buddies. As LA begins to get out of his truck I make my way to the door. He instantly smiles and gives me a hug. “Can I buy a beautiful lady a drink?” I think for a second and then lean in. “No, but you can take me home and do all those things you’ve always dreamt about doing to me.” And we’re back at my house quicker than “beam me up, Scottie”.

Surprisingly, LA is not at all the dud I feared he would be in bed. In fact, he’s actually quite good. He’s no Rock and I don’t love him like MOB but for tonight he’ll be a dose of amnesia mixed with a decent orgasm and for that, I can’t thank him enough.

A Little Advice

Perhaps I need therapy. Things around me are changing fast. I don’t feel like I can keep up sometimes. Nothing in my life is the same as it was just months earlier. New job, new roommates, I’ve been forced to search for men via the internet and I have no MOB.

Vagina Jane emails me to stop my fucking whining and gives me a piece of advice : The Best Way To Get Over A Man Is To Get Under Another One. And so it begins…

My Rock Has Rolled

I get a call from my ex-before-MOB, Rock. To put this in perspective, Rock is beautiful. Hot, built like a god, hung like a horse, a smile that should be in the movies. I swear the first night I saw him he smiled at me and you heard the panties of every woman around me dropping at a chance. He was amazing. And amazing in bed. But he was a mess in life. The best of intentions but just couldn’t get a break. He had moved to the opposite side of the country months earlier, vowing to get his shit in order. He called me today to tell me he has. “What color do you want the master bedroom?” And he’s serious. He’s building a four bedroom house, has secured a job, cashed in a trust fund and is actually stepping up to be a father to his children. I’m literally drooling all over my phone. Oh yes, except that he’s on the other side of the country and I have no intentions of relocating. But his voice is so sweet and so excited and sincere and hopeful…I can’t help but play along. I go with buttercup over lavender and we talk about how we’ll see each other soon when I come visit and see “our” house. He ends the conversation with “I love you.” I know he still means it, perhaps now more than ever. I don’t know why but I say it back. Suddenly, I’ve made him the happiest man on Earth.

Then I head to the computer to see if I can cast my magic love spell on any unsuspecting men in the cyber world.

Leave A Message After The Tone

Delivery Guy leaves a message while I’m in the shower. He’s hoping we could get together sometime and I could show him around, as he’s new to town. I don’t call back quite yet. My hands are full with this online crap and convincing myself that MOB sucks as bad as I think he does.

His Door Doesn't Swing My Way

…I don’t remember.

After hours of emails and instant messaging and three decent phone calls I agree to my first online date. We meet at a coffee shop down the street from my house. He’s cuter than his picture. He opens doors for me and pays for my chocolate brownie frappuccino. We sit and talk for hours. My side hurts I’m laughing so hard. I notice how he sits with his legs crossed like a lady while I have them spread like a trucker. I eye the labels on his clothes and the fact that there is not a wrinkle anywhere on them. His shoes are fresh off the designer shelf and match his belt. He talks about poetry and this great decorator he found to redo his condo…And he has no idea that he’s gay.

“Of course you picked a gay guy.” Vagina Jane says, laughing. “It was safe.” How was I supposed to know he was gay prior to the date if he himself doesn’t know he’s gay? She assures me I had an inkling and did it so I could say I went on a date. It was a safe bet for me. I wouldn’t have to worry about actually liking him. Although I tell her the idea is completely ludicrous, sometimes I hate her for knowing me well.

In The Stars

Sitting at work, bored out of my mind. I read my horoscope and it says DO SOMETHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY. LIVE A LITTLE. MAKE A NEW FRIEND, WEED OUT THOSE PEOPLE WHO ARE BRINGING YOU DOWN.

Sylvia thinks the man I sent her is a god. She’s planning out children’s names and looking at swatches of fabric for bridesmaid’s dresses. The more she tells me about him the more he does sound perfect. Vagina Jane thinks I purposely lose the good ones and that I am a “dumbass magnet”. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if she’s right. Am I purposely trying to punish myself for wrongs committed in my past? Do I really have something against being happy like Sylvia says? Define “destructive and addictive personality” and be specific…

8 PM
Kissing in the boys room

The doorbell rings as I am getting ready to go out. I assume it is my friend and co-party girl Vagina Jane just a tad early. I sprint down the stairs in my jeans and bra and throw the door open. “What’s up bitch?!” But Vagina Jane is NOT standing at my door. Instead it is a tall, dark and very hot man holding a clipboard and a package. I freeze. He stares. We both laugh as I grab a blanket off the couch and wrap it around my chest. I apologize and explain I was expecting a friend, not a hot delivery guy. He says it’s the best delivery he’s had all night. Not often does he get to deliver to beautiful women. I blush. What the hell am I doing? Flirting with a strange delivery man who just saw me in my bra? And then I remember the horoscope and grow balls the size of watermelons. “Well, it’s too bad you’re working tonight. My friends and I are going out.” Delivery Guy (DG) smiles a very sexy smile and my pulse is racing. He asks for my number and I give it to him. He leaves and I fall on the ground laughing. My roommate asks what the hell just happened and all I can do is laugh until Vagina Jane gets there and I recount the story.

10 PM

Vagina Jane and I make it to the bar. We surround ourselves with drinks and join Preach and FB at the dartboard. FB is hot. We’ve noticed each other plenty of times before. Always flirty but I was never accessible because of MOB. And it seemed like every time FB and I were really hitting it off MOB showed up. This would happen again tonight. MOB walked in and did his usual strut around the bar. We pretended we didn’t see each other for a little while. Then, like he had just seen me yesterday and we were forever in love, he shoots up to my side with a hug and an “I love you, boo. How have you been?” I stare at him in complete disbelief. FB is watching. This makes me uncomfortable although I don’t know why. MOB and I make our way outside to chat. While he explains how he’s sorry he didn’t call and how he wishes he had more time to devote to me I realize two things. 1-We are standing next to his car. 2-There is not a single scratch, dent or blemish on it. This car is far from totaled. Beat me with a stick-I am such an idiot!

1:30 AM

MOB is gone with a female “childhood friend” he had to give a ride. Vagina Jane and I are wasted. Oddly, I’m still having a great time. We play darts with FB and Preach. FB and I are winning. We hug or touch after every passing off the darts. It’s fun. It’s flirty. It’s distracting me from the group of MOB’s friends who are watching from across the bar. FB walks into the men’s restroom (approximately two feet away). Vagina Jane makes some comment about how I should be with FB instead of MOB. I, along with the Captain Morgan that has diluted my brain and pulses through my veins, consider this for a moment. Add in a little shot of the horoscope and next thing you know, I walk into the men’s bathroom where I find FB washing his hands. He’s obviously surprised to see me. “What are you doing in here?” He asks with a smile. “This.” And I kiss him. We are interrupted by a flashing light and the evil cackle of Vagina Jane. I swear that bitch should be paparazzi. Although I’m not famous, that camera catches me at the most absurd times. But I’m really too drunk to care. I prance out of the bathroom with a grin. I wink at Preach who just shakes his head. Sure, I’ll probably feel bad about this tomorrow. If I remember…

If You Never Wanna Hear From Me Again, Try These Steps

Still not a phone call from MOB. As far as he knows I’m still worried about his safety. This guy sucks worse than I thought.

Is it possible that many men in this world think it’s cool to sound illiterate? “What’s uppers?”, “Dis shit is off da hoo-zook”, and “Fo sho” are by no means good grammar nor are they a turn on. “Yo, baby” doesn’t score points with me. And asking how much a woman weighs, what size her breasts are and seeking out an exact home address within the first few minutes of conversation are also great ways to get your email blocked from my account.

Always A Bridesmaid

Attend a Labor Day party with my friends. Run in to some of MOB’s friends. I ask if they know if he’s okay. They look at me funny, tell me he’s fine. They just saw him at another party. I’m livid and now opting for his death.

Online thing is a riot. I decide to get proactive and start sending emails to guys instead of just letting them come to me. Vagina Jane helps me compose many a letter. I’ve become the Robin Hood of online dating. It’s amazing how much you really can tell about someone online. Go with your gut. I always answer the sweet nerdy guys, even if I’m not interested. And the cocky ones that think they’re all that, well I make sure they get what they deserve too. One guy I’ve been emailing with is awesome (and rich) but so not my type. I realize that he and Sylvia are perfect for each other and decide to play matchmaker.

When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Chatting

Can’t decide if MOB’s in a coma or dead. Not sure which one I’m wishing for at this point.

I’m leary at first but end up chatting online with two of the guys who emailed me. Interesting stuff. Not bad. They’re in contention. Don’t seem like the “dick wacking while watching Star Trek because I live at home with mom” type of guys I had feared.

Weed 'Em Out

Not a word from MOB. I leave him a message to make sure he’s okay.

Thirteen new messages in my box. I think Sylvia resents me for it. She’s had five in the last week. None of these guys are really my flavor though. I decide to tweak my profile, hoping to draw in less crazies and more hotties with a good income, no kids and a great sex drive. I’m realizing the key is a fine line between specific and fucking impossible.

Bleeding From The Head

I check my online dating mailbox. I have fifteen new messages. Sylvia is impressed. Two or three seem worthy of a response and the rest I erase. But first I forward the really funny or pathetic ones to my friend Vagina Jane. Only she will be able to truly appreciate this and join me in a cruel ritual of poking fun.

I see MOB at the bar. He’s sorry he didn’t make it last night. But he’s for sure coming tonight. He’s in a much better mood and I’m hopeful that maybe we’ll get back on track. He calls at 1:30 and says he got in a car accident and totaled his car. I freak out when he says that he’s bleeding from the head. I offer to go get him. He says the cops are on their way. I should go to sleep. He will call me in the morning. I do.

ADD Kicks My Ass

I have officially diagnosed myself with my own version of ADD. Attention Deficit Disorder. I need attention, constantly and my disorder erupts if there is a deficit of it being showered upon me. Symptoms of my ADD include loneliness, longing, anxiety, jealousy, neediness and diarrhea of the mouth.

ADD kicked my ass today. I was at the bar with my male strictly platonic friend Preach when MOB walked in the door. He actually looked at me, went to the other end of the bar, ordered a drink, finished it and walked out without saying a single word to me. I tried calling him. I feel like total shit but am trying to convince myself that he didn’t see me. He didn’t answer. The shit is rising. Preach looks at me and says, “Wasn’t that your boy?” I shrug, acting as if I didn’t notice. I notice LA walk in the door. I perk up for a second. LA is totally in love with me. LA follows me around, buys me drinks, calls me and always wants to hug up on me even though he knows I have a man. He thinks that eventually I’ll cave. Tonight, I need his normally annoying and overly aggressive attention as a pick-me-upper. LA doesn’t disappoint. I leave the bar a bit drunk but more importantly, feeling like I’m not a complete loser. Just because MOB doesn’t seem to want me doesn’t mean I don’t have other options. Screw you, MOB, you’re the loser!

3 AM

Phone rings and I scrambled for it. It’s MOB. “Hello?” He asks if I’m sleeping. Of course I’m not sleeping. It’s not like I have to be up for work in four hours for my real job where they take out taxes and no one gets touched up or shot at any point throughout the day. I lie anyway. “No, I was just reading.” I ask why he ignored me at the bar. He says I looked busy. I remember back and I know that I was staring numbly at the tv, chewing on my straw when he walked in. “What does that mean?” And despite the nerve I think he has, he goes there. “You and ol’ boy looked pretty friendly. I didn’t want to interrupt.” The fucker has completely lost his mind. I sit up so fast I knock my head on the shelf and my lamp goes crashing to the floor. Are you kidding me? Preach? Why didn’t he just ask me if I’ve ever had a wet dream about my female dwarf cousin? The two ideas seemed equally plausible at this point. An hour later I’ve finally convinced him that I’m not in love with, sleeping with, pining over, thinking about or feeling anything but friendship towards Preach. He says he’s on his way over to see me...

He never shows.

For A Good Time, Try Online

My friend Sylvia convinces me that I need to get out there. I agree to start checking out the dating pool. Sylvia has other plans. Before I know it, I’ve got a profile and picture up on a internet dating site. Not that I’m above this but I just never thought about doing it. I’m skeptical that I can find anything to suit my needs this way but decide to humor her anyway. Like I haven’t spent $20 a month on stupider things! Don’t have much to lose at this point.