I take the day off and pick up E this morning at 9 am. She looks like she hadn't slept all night. We drive in relative silence compared to how we usually communicate: like two ADHD kids trying to speak in iambic pentameter pig latin, full of profound statements that no one else would understand as we shift topics with every other sentence.
We get to the clinic and the TV's blaring crappy Richard Scary cartoons. I turn it down, and the receptionist gives me a glare.
E goes back, has blood taken, and we head down the street for breakfast tacos. Because in Texas, there are breakfast taco places everywhere, including conveniently located next to this particular Planned Parenthood.
I try to joke around, she makes light of certain conversational topics, but there's this scared, gray look in her eyes. I want to shake her. You are the dumb ass here. You didn't use protection. You are 30 years old. Worse things have happened. This isn't a bad thing; you like the guy, he likes you, maybe give him a chance to prove that he'll be there for you.
We go back to the clinic and she says I should wait in the car while she goes in for the results. I'm nervous and slightly nauseated from the tacos. I get out of the car just in time and barf behind the dumpster.
She is pregnant.
I barf again.
I drop her off at her ex's house, where she has to have the most difficult discussion of her 30 years.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
opps
The past week, my friend E has been waiting patiently for her monthly. Today, while joking around at Target about how long she's been waiting, she admitted that she and her ex weren't good at using birth control.
"You used condoms, right?"
"Not really... maybe twice."
"But you're on the pill, right?"
She shook her head.
"VCF? Spermacide? Anything?"
The whole time, she kept shaking her head.
"What?!?" I nearly lost it, hands flying everywhere.
"Well, it felt so good. And I never thought anything would happen. But then, this one time, he, um..."
"You know the pull-out method is crap, right?"
"I know."
"You know you're a dumb ass, right?"
"I know."
Two hours later, I got a scared phone call.
"There's two lines. There's a faint pink line; the box says a faint line counts."
"I'll be right there."
I stopped at the grocery store to pick up essentials: soda, peanut butter cups, chips and pico. When I got to her place, I let myself in. She was sitting on her favorite chair , arms wrapped around herself, crying.
"It'll be okay," I said.
"You used condoms, right?"
"Not really... maybe twice."
"But you're on the pill, right?"
She shook her head.
"VCF? Spermacide? Anything?"
The whole time, she kept shaking her head.
"What?!?" I nearly lost it, hands flying everywhere.
"Well, it felt so good. And I never thought anything would happen. But then, this one time, he, um..."
"You know the pull-out method is crap, right?"
"I know."
"You know you're a dumb ass, right?"
"I know."
Two hours later, I got a scared phone call.
"There's two lines. There's a faint pink line; the box says a faint line counts."
"I'll be right there."
I stopped at the grocery store to pick up essentials: soda, peanut butter cups, chips and pico. When I got to her place, I let myself in. She was sitting on her favorite chair , arms wrapped around herself, crying.
"It'll be okay," I said.
This blog has no time line, really. Everything concerning an ex or a date could have happened 5 years ago or last November. So my "sudden" falling for R. while still talking about other dudes really isn't a big deal, because 99% of them have been out of my life for a long time and are now just stories.
So there :-P
Anything not related to past dudes is happening in real time.
So there :-P
Anything not related to past dudes is happening in real time.
Monday, January 18, 2010
R. is gone for the week...
and I miss him!
I miss his laugh, the way his brow furrows when he's thinking, the way he grabs my hand as soon as we're walking, the way he kisses my eyelids, the little dimples (especially the one on the right- it's my favorite), the way his face lights up when I open the door to let him in, the gentle manner he has with Gus, the foot massages (!!)
I'm going to marry this one, folks. For reals. I know it.
I miss his laugh, the way his brow furrows when he's thinking, the way he grabs my hand as soon as we're walking, the way he kisses my eyelids, the little dimples (especially the one on the right- it's my favorite), the way his face lights up when I open the door to let him in, the gentle manner he has with Gus, the foot massages (!!)
I'm going to marry this one, folks. For reals. I know it.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The Crazy
"I don't like fucking you," he said as he shook me awake.
"What?"
"And I hate your took in that dog."
Gus was found in a drainage ditch covered in fleas and ringworm. He was now on meds and sleeping in my living room.
"What?"
"I was going to buy you a dog, a designer dog, a $1200 dog."
"But I love Gus."
"I don't care. I don't."
"So?"
"I took 5 Ambien."
"Why?"
"Because you don't love me."
"What?!?" At this point I was wide awake. Crazy had served 9 years over-seas in the army, survived a childhood of abuse, and was dealing with PTSD.
"And I took six Benadryl." He started to cry and walked into the kitchen.
"Where are you going?!?" I screamed.
"I'm going to slit my wrists!!"
"What?!"
"I've also had a few shots of whiskey: half a bottle of whiskey. YOU DON'T LOVE ME. YOU HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. I'M BETTER OFF DEAD!"
At that point I ran downstairs and knocked on my neighbors' apartment. It was 11 PM, but they were still up and said I had to call 911. When I went upstairs, Crazy was hiding. Hiding in my 900 SF apartment. I found him under my bed.
"You hate me," he said. "Mom hates me. Everyone hates me. I should die!" He held a carving knife in one hand and the empty bottle of Ambien in the other.
I left him there and from the hallway, texted Clark, my best guy friend from high school. 3 months prior he had moved 30 minutes away from me. "Come ASAP. I need you." That's all I said.
I went back into the apartment. Crazy was in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. "I took 8 Benadryl! And finished this Nyquil!," He said, as he held up empty containers. Tears ran down his face and he licked them up with his tongue.
The cops arrived. My neighbor came upstairs. I sat there, not sure what was happening. They told me to step out, then come back in, then step out again. They had so many questions.
"I'm sorry," the cops said. "It's your word against his. We can't take him in unless he's a threat to you or himself."
"But here's the empty Ambien bottle! And here's the the empty Benadryl!" I held up the bottles.
"But it's your word against his." Crazy was standing there, snot and tears running down his face. His eyes were red. "Maybe let us talk to him in private," the cop said. "Maybe his story will change."
I went and sat on the step. Two minutes later, Clark pulled up. He and I had been best friends for the past 10 years; he was a brother and a best friend. And never before in all our friendship was I so happy to see him. As soon as he was out out of his car, I was in his arms, sobbing, explaining what was happening.
"Let's go up," he said, "and see what the status is."
I held his hand so tight. Clark: my best friend, the person who cared about me most in the giant state of Texas.
Crazy was in handcuffs. Snott was running down his face and when he caught my eye, he looked at me with intense anger.
"Well, he's admitted to wanting to kill himself," the cop said. "We're going to take him to the ER."
Clark squeezed my hand.
"You never loved me," Crazy said.
"I only want you to be safe," I said to Crazy.
Crazy was taken away. Clark stayed up with me all night. We baked 6 loaves of bread and watched the sun come up with cups of hazelnut coffee.
2 months later, Clark was laid off and moved back to our hometown.
"What?"
"And I hate your took in that dog."
Gus was found in a drainage ditch covered in fleas and ringworm. He was now on meds and sleeping in my living room.
"What?"
"I was going to buy you a dog, a designer dog, a $1200 dog."
"But I love Gus."
"I don't care. I don't."
"So?"
"I took 5 Ambien."
"Why?"
"Because you don't love me."
"What?!?" At this point I was wide awake. Crazy had served 9 years over-seas in the army, survived a childhood of abuse, and was dealing with PTSD.
"And I took six Benadryl." He started to cry and walked into the kitchen.
"Where are you going?!?" I screamed.
"I'm going to slit my wrists!!"
"What?!"
"I've also had a few shots of whiskey: half a bottle of whiskey. YOU DON'T LOVE ME. YOU HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. I'M BETTER OFF DEAD!"
At that point I ran downstairs and knocked on my neighbors' apartment. It was 11 PM, but they were still up and said I had to call 911. When I went upstairs, Crazy was hiding. Hiding in my 900 SF apartment. I found him under my bed.
"You hate me," he said. "Mom hates me. Everyone hates me. I should die!" He held a carving knife in one hand and the empty bottle of Ambien in the other.
I left him there and from the hallway, texted Clark, my best guy friend from high school. 3 months prior he had moved 30 minutes away from me. "Come ASAP. I need you." That's all I said.
I went back into the apartment. Crazy was in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. "I took 8 Benadryl! And finished this Nyquil!," He said, as he held up empty containers. Tears ran down his face and he licked them up with his tongue.
The cops arrived. My neighbor came upstairs. I sat there, not sure what was happening. They told me to step out, then come back in, then step out again. They had so many questions.
"I'm sorry," the cops said. "It's your word against his. We can't take him in unless he's a threat to you or himself."
"But here's the empty Ambien bottle! And here's the the empty Benadryl!" I held up the bottles.
"But it's your word against his." Crazy was standing there, snot and tears running down his face. His eyes were red. "Maybe let us talk to him in private," the cop said. "Maybe his story will change."
I went and sat on the step. Two minutes later, Clark pulled up. He and I had been best friends for the past 10 years; he was a brother and a best friend. And never before in all our friendship was I so happy to see him. As soon as he was out out of his car, I was in his arms, sobbing, explaining what was happening.
"Let's go up," he said, "and see what the status is."
I held his hand so tight. Clark: my best friend, the person who cared about me most in the giant state of Texas.
Crazy was in handcuffs. Snott was running down his face and when he caught my eye, he looked at me with intense anger.
"Well, he's admitted to wanting to kill himself," the cop said. "We're going to take him to the ER."
Clark squeezed my hand.
"You never loved me," Crazy said.
"I only want you to be safe," I said to Crazy.
Crazy was taken away. Clark stayed up with me all night. We baked 6 loaves of bread and watched the sun come up with cups of hazelnut coffee.
2 months later, Clark was laid off and moved back to our hometown.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Air Force Captain
He was an air force captain, and we met for drinks after exchanging 12 emails and a few phone calls over the course of two weeks.
He was cute enough, and certainly buff. His eyes were almost lavender and he smelled of bergmont.
He had a drink in front of him already, so I ordered my usual: scotch and soda.
The conversation was fine until I had had 3, maybe 4, sips of my drink.
"So," he asked, swirling his rum and coke. "What kind of birth control are you on?"
I nearly choked. "Excuse me?"
"Well, that's the point, right?"
As calmly as I could manage, I place my drink back on the cardboard coaster, folded my napkin, put it on the table, placed a $5 bill next to it, and stood up.
"A gentleman never assumes," I said before turning around and walking out the door.
He was cute enough, and certainly buff. His eyes were almost lavender and he smelled of bergmont.
He had a drink in front of him already, so I ordered my usual: scotch and soda.
The conversation was fine until I had had 3, maybe 4, sips of my drink.
"So," he asked, swirling his rum and coke. "What kind of birth control are you on?"
I nearly choked. "Excuse me?"
"Well, that's the point, right?"
As calmly as I could manage, I place my drink back on the cardboard coaster, folded my napkin, put it on the table, placed a $5 bill next to it, and stood up.
"A gentleman never assumes," I said before turning around and walking out the door.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
28 days
I've been dating R. for 28 days. He's amazing, just what I've been looking for, which makes the whole thing kinda... no really... scary.
And here's the kicker: I haven't slept with him yet. My assistants are taking a pool as to when it'll happen, and if I hold out until it's been a full 2 months, they promise to buy me something pretty b/c I'll have won the pool.
Too bad they can read me like a book, otherwise I'd just lie ;)
And here's the kicker: I haven't slept with him yet. My assistants are taking a pool as to when it'll happen, and if I hold out until it's been a full 2 months, they promise to buy me something pretty b/c I'll have won the pool.
Too bad they can read me like a book, otherwise I'd just lie ;)
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