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.