Huge Asshole

I spent the day with Huge Asshole today. Before you start to judge let me explain...

Last week my car was hit while parked outside The Plex. I heard the crash and remember thinking, "That was my car." I was right.

Homeless Boyfriend, Mr. Boston and Snapshot were in the living room when it happened. It was 1pm on a Wednesday afternoon. They looked out the window and saw a small white sedan attached to my car in the middle of the street.

"Carrie!" Homeless Boyfriend yells not realizing I was safe in my room hopping around to my latest workout DVD addiction. I just bought Metamorphoses by Tracy Anderson and have been faithfully following the workout regime and meal plan for nine whole days. I was sweating my ass off in my bedroom as The Plex and most of the neighborhood ran out to the street following the crash. I finished up my workout and jumped into the shower, oblivious to the chaos happening outside.

Once the boys got downstairs and looked through the windows of my empty car they realize the guy had hit it while it was still parked. Homeless Boyfriend said the occupants of the white sedan were hilarious. They were two clean cut kids, paralyzed behind the windshield, mouths dropped open. The driver still had his hands locked to the steering wheel.

HB came back inside and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Uh, Carrie? I don't mean to ruin your shower but your car was just hit and is now sitting in the middle of the street. You should probably come out here." He tells me.

"Ok," I call back calmly. "I'll be right out."

I wasn't upset. Only concerned that the people who hit it may leave. But I knew the guys would make sure to keep them there, so I quickly dried off, threw on some clothes and ran downstairs.

It was a wreck. My car had been facing north, the driver had hit it while driving South. He must have really been speeding because he managed to hit my car hard enough to send it flying across the street into another parked car. Snapshot and Homeless Boyfriend both had their cameras out taping the scene.

The two kids were sitting on the grass on their phones across the street.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I was just driving and turned to talk to my friend and it just..." he trails off, gesturing towards the war scene in front of us.

I looked at his passenger. His face was still white with shock.

"Scared the shit out of ya huh?" I ask him.

"Oh my god yes!" He replies, relieved that I understood.

Five hours later, insurance companies had been notified and my rent a car reservation had been set. I knew my car was totaled.

"You don't seem all that upset about this Carrie," Homeless Boyfriend says to me later.

"Not really," I say. "I really really needed a new car anyway so this is sort of a blessing."

Two weeks later I received $6000 for my car and was set to buy a new one.

I received the check on a Monday night. I wasn't off until Wednesday so I spent that day and the next scouring Craigslist for a new car. I finally found one. It was within my price range, had low miles and a clean outer and inner body. Excellent!

I woke up early Wednesday morning so that I could run to the bank and then make the drive to Fullerton to check out, and hopefully pick up the car. I just had one problem. I had no one to go with me.

"I can help you this weekend," Mr. Boston offers. "I'll be off and I'm not going to EDC."

Homeless Boyfriend and Hippie Chick were heading out to Vegas for the insane rave, Electronic Daisy Carnival. Mr. Boston and I were staying behind. When it comes to deserts and raves, I'm a no show ever since I almost died at one. But that's a story I'll save for another time...

"Thanks, but today is the last day that my insurance will pay for my rent a car so I have to make this happen." I tell him.

I had been trying to get a hold of my dad for two days to see if he could help me out. He was a car salesman for 25 years and the only person I knew that would be off today. But he had yet to return any of my calls. My next option was to call Partyboy. He would definitely be off. He would be useless as far as helping me with negotiations or checking out the inner workings of the car, but he has a drivers license and could atleast  help by driving my new car back to The Plex.

"No," I think. "I don't want to call him."

I knew he would help. I just didn't want it. Partyboy and I may be friends but I still have my issues with that guy. I didn't want to ask him for anything.

"Screw it," I thought. "If I like the car I'll just buy it, park it somewhere, and get someone to help me bring it back later."

Satisfied with my decision I headed over to the bank to cash my check. I was excited. Excited to be getting my new car and proud that I was doing it alone. I felt self sufficient and grown up and independent. I felt great! Until the bank told me that they were putting a two day hold on my check.

"What?! Why can't I just cash it?" I ask them with just enough panic in my voice to make them pay attention.

"We're sorry, but we can't cash it. There is always an automatic hold on checks of this kind." The Teller tells me.

Huh? The check was issued directly from my car insurance. It wasn't like I had walked in with a personal check from Iam Fruad.

After a few fake tears from me and  a quick visit from one of the bank managers I finally got them to cash the check by midnight that night.

I left the bank deflated. What the hell was I going to do?! I only had today to do this. Plus I didn't want to loose out on this car. It was perfect for me. I got behind the wheel of my rent a car and began to drive...then immediately pulled back over. I was close to tears. Who would help me now? Who would be off, willing to spend the entire day doing this and had the money to lend me so that I could buy the car? That's when it hit me. There was only one person I knew that could do it.

Huge Asshole.

"I can't call him," I thought. It wasn't right! Or was it? I mean the only reason we weren't talking was because of me. I cut him off. To punish him for being an asshole in life. I already knew he wanted to talk to me. He would give anything to see me. He hated that I was no longer a part of his life. The selfish prick wanted to be able to dump me but still have me around.

And the truth was, part of me wanted to see him. I wanted to see how it felt. I wanted to know if I was really over him and us. I wanted to know if it still hurt. I didn't think it would. I felt fine. But you'll never know if you're actually over something until the cause of your original pain is standing in right in front of you.

"I wonder if The Rocker will be pissed," I thought next.

No. He wouldn't. That's one of the many reasons why I loved The Rocker so much. He isn't jealous. He isn't insecure. It didn't bother him that I still hung out with Partyboy. It didn't bother him when I went out with my friends. He didn't get angry if I was hit on and he never questioned me or my where abouts.

I asked him once why he was so secure.

"Well, the best way I can describe how I feel about things is by comparing it to the X-man movie," he says to me.

I laugh. Intrigued I ask him to continue.

"It's like that scene between Scott (Cyclops) and Logan (Wolverine)," he says. "You know the one? Where they are talking about Jean? Logan says to Scott, 'Is this the part where you ask me to stay away from your girl?' Scott replies back, 'If I had to tell you that, then she wouldn't really be my girl.' Well that's how I feel about it. Maybe I'm being naive..."

"No," I tell him immediately. "Your right. You shouldn't worry about it. And if you have to, you shouldn't be with that person in the first place."

He had nothing to worry about with me. I was his through and through. But I still wanted to tell him. I wanted to let him weigh in on what I should do. I wanted to call him and ask if he thought calling Huge Asshole was ok. More than that I wanted to talk to my boyfriend and vent about what had just happened. I was upset and wanted to hear his voice.

But I knew I couldn't. He was at work and wouldn't be able to answer. Even if he had been home the chances of him answering his phone were slim. I still hadn't seen him in weeks and the few phone conversations we have had have been short and impersonal.

"Fuck it! " I thought. "I need help."

I pick up my phone and text Huge Asshole, "Busy?"

What? I was desperate. I had no one else to call. No one else who could help. The Rocker wouldn't be mad and honestly I didn't even know if he and I were even together anymore. For all I knew we were done and he was just shoving me aside until he could get around to letting me know it.

Huge Asshole responds within 2 minutes.

"Negative dear. What's up?"

I laugh to myself. He knows the only reason I would contact him was if I needed help.

"Huge favor...beyond...if you're even able," I send back.

He just replies with a, "?"

Here goes nothin.

"So my car was hit while parked the other day and was trashed. I just got my check yesterday and I think I found a car in Fullerton but now I have two problems. 1.) If I like it I have no one to help me drive it back. 2.) The bank won't clear my check until tomorrow....Ok, I lied I have 3 problems. Today is the last day they will pay for my rent a car."

I hold my breath. I'm not sure what he will say. He could be an ass and make me beg. He could just flat out  say no. He could laugh at me and ask why my boyfriend wasn't helping me or something smart ass like that.

He simply responds with, "No sweat. Lets go."

Relief spreads through me...until his next text.

"Oh god, I'm totally The Ex now huh? haha."

I immediately feel guilty. I had wrecked my car a few years ago. For a month Huge Asshole had tried to find a new one with me. Well not help so much as bitch and complain and make my life harder every step of the way. He had acted like my car search was a drain on his life.

"This is never going to end!" he screamed at me once while we were driving away from yet another unsuccessful car viewing. The funny thing was, I actually liked that car. He was the one who had shot it down, just like he had with the dozen before it. Huge Asshole used to be a mechanic and generally didn't trust people let alone car sellers. Every time I found a car I was excited about he would shake his head no behind the car dealers back and then walk away to let me deal with the no thank yous and good byes.

After that trip, I decided to cut him out of my car search. I called The Ex. He had already offered to help, but I had told him not to worry about it. My boyfriend had me covered. Stupid me. I should have took him up on his offer in the first place.

The Ex gave me a time he was available. He found a car for me online. He negotiated over the phone with the seller and sent me the information so that I could look at the car myself. I took Dimples husband with me to check the car out. Satisfied, I bought the car 3 days after the fight I had with Huge Asshole.

He was livid! He tried to hold back his jealousy and anger. He had to. I mean what was he angry about? That someone else was willing to help me when he wasn't? Without complaint and without expecting anything back from me in return?

"Sorry. You can say no," I text back, immediately feeling guilty. "You know I would never ask but the bank just stressed me out and I don't what else to do."

I'm ok with asking The Ex for help because I know he loves me. Without conditions. Without expectations. If he ever needed me I would be there for him as well. We may not be lovers any longer but he was still family. And family is there for you no matter how much time has passed since you last seen them.

But Huge Asshole wasn't family to me. He was an ex. An ex that I hated asking for help, but I was in a bind and the guy did owe me.

"No I was kidding," he texts back. "I'm getting in the shower. See you when you get here."

I send back a simple, "Ok."

I drive the familiar route to his house. As I get off the freeway my stomach flips. Not because I was excited. Not because I was nervous. It flipped out of fear. I had made this trip a thousand times to see him in the past. My worst fear would be that we were together again and I was making this trip so that could see him. My worse fear would be getting back with this guy.

I pull outside his house and text him that I'm out front.

He comes running out, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans. I can smell the familiar scent of his cologne as he jumps in the car. I laugh to myself. He almost never wears his cologne.

"Whats up dudey?" I say to him.

"Hi!" he says back.

Nothing. I feel nothing. No nervousness, no love, no anger. I'm perfectly at ease. Excellent.

The ride to Fullerton was almost...fun. No. Not fun. Familiar.

I try to use my GPS to find the place. He yells at me to put it down and learn the streets around his house for once. Same old argument. Same old teasing. I scowl at him and pretend to comply, secretly placing my ear piece in my ear so that I can still hear my GPS directions without him knowing.

We make the drive down to Fullerton and check out the car. For the first time ever, the guy is actually helpful! He immediately pops open the hood and starts asking questions. Satisfied, we move into the office and start the negotiating.

I was able to talk the guy down $500. Its still a little more than I wanted to spend, but I really needed a car so I feel confused and pressured to end this.

"Excuse me, is there anyway you could leave us alone for a moment?" Huge Asshole asks the guy.

"Sure no problem. Just let me know when you're ready. I'll be out front," the Dealer says back.

Then Huge Asshole did something he had definitely never done before. He turned to me asked me what I really wanted. He helped me weigh my options. He helped me focus. He helped me decide that I wanted the car and told me not to worry about the price.

"I'll get him to take more off," he says to me.

We call the guy back in and he does just that. He was able to drop the price another $200.

I smile. This guy wasn't half bad. Sometimes Huge Asshole could almost be...a man. But I know it was only temporary. This guy would never last. By nature Huge Asshole is selfish and lazy. He was making an effort today to get in my good graces, but it would only take a few weeks for him to morph back into his normal self. He had done it a dozen times before. But today, I had the nice guy. And I was happy to have him here. He helped. As he should. For once.

The Dealer began to fill out the paperwork. I notice Huge Assholes leg is bouncing up and down like a pair of humming bird wings. I reach over and place my two fingers on the top of his knee to stop the bouncing. We look at each other and both smile. Its a gesture I had done a thousand times. Familiar.

I pick up my phone to check the time. "Dude, that screen is crazy, let me see it," Huge Asshole says, grabbing my phone.

I have a pattern lock set on my phone. I had pulled it out several times and unlocked it to call the dealer on our way up here. Huge Asshole takes the phone into his hands and without a seconds hesitation, traces the correct pattern to unlock it.

Mother Fucker.

My immediate reaction was to reach out for my phone. I was afraid of him looking through my texts. Looking through my photos. Looking through my shit. But then I realized, I have nothing to hide! We weren't together anymore. I had nothing to fear.

Leave it to him to ruin a perfectly nice day together by reminding me of what an insecure jealous stalker he is. He had always been jealous. I have to admit that in the beginning I liked it. I thought he was being protective. I thought it was sweet when he would walk me to the bathroom when we were out. I loved that he would text me when I was out without him to see how my night was going. I thought it was awesome that he would keep an eye out for me no matter where we were.

Sweet quickly turned into obsessive. Walking to the bathroom turned into asking permission to go. Keeping an eye out for me turned into standing by his side the whole time or with pre-approved friends to look after me. He started to question every text. Every phone call. I would have to give him detailed reports of my where abouts if I went out without him. All of which was unnecessary since he usually would be texting me the entire time I was out.

He got worse when we had got back together after I had dated Nutty for a year. That's when he asked me for the passwords to my social networking sites. "We're a couple," he told me. "We should have nothing to hide from each other." One night he actually got out of bed in the dark and picked up my phone. He went into the bathroom with it thinking I hadn't seen him.

I was livid! I confronted him the second he came back into the room.

"What the hell do you think your doing?!" I hissed at him in the dark.

He had nothing to say. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my shit and left.

I never should have went back.

His jealousy hit its boiling point when I went to Vegas for Dimples Bachlorette party. He forced me to send him a photo of what I was wearing that night. I sent him a photo of my skin tight one shoulder short white dress and 6 inch BCBG platform heels. I mean it was Vegas? What else would I be wearing?

He was pissed! "Why do you always feel the need to wear shit like that?" He text me.

"Like what?" I replied.

"Like a whore. You always need to be the center of attention don't you?" he sends back.

I was hurt. I dress the way I think looks the most flattering for me. I dress to compete with my girlfriends. I dress to feel confident and sexy and to feel like...me.

I never cheated on the guy. I never did anything inappropriate with guys while out. I generally don't even really like men. I hate being hit on. I was out looking good having a good time with my girls. That was it.

 Even though the guys were in Vegas at the same time, we never saw them. However it felt like Huge Asshole was with me the whole time. He text me every fifteen minutes. I was Dimples Maid of Honor and had organized this whole trip. There I was trying to shuffle around 12 drunken bridesmaids through the strip club/club hopping limo drive that I had planned out for them, texting my psycho freak out boyfriend the entire time.  He wouldn't stop! He gradually got crueler and crueler. He went from concerned to asshole to psycho within hours.

By 4am I had had enough.

"Dude, that's it. I'm done with this, and you." I text him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He sends back.

"Your mean! Your really really mean. I don't deserve this. I'm a good person and I haven't done anything wrong. I don't want to be treated like this anymore. Goodnight, and goodbye," I send him.

I turned off my phone and went to sleep. When I woke up the next morning I had 15 missed text messages.They started off cruel then eventually tapered off into crying land.

"I can't believe your not answering me when you know I'm freaking out like this," one text read.

14 insane text later he finally sends, " I'm so sorry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but I really do love you and I was just freaking out and being an asshole."

Now there's the understatement of the year.

That's when he pulled a low blow. It was Fathers day, and he told me that his dad wanted us to go by his house for dinner when we got back from Vegas. He knew how much I loved his dad. He knew I wouldn't cancel on him. So I went and forgave him. Again.

I reached over and took my phone back from Huge Asshole. I don't say anything. He wants me to notice. He wants me to comment. So I don't.

Once we finish up the paperwork, we all shake hands and head out to the cars. I give him the keys for the new car and he follows me in my rental back home. After we drop off the rent a car I stop by The Plex to grab a jacket before we head out for dinner. The poor guy hasn't eaten all day and I know that he expects a good meal out of this.

We walk into The Plex together and say hi to Homeless Boyfriend sitting at his desk. I had called Hippie Chick on the way home to tell her what had happened today and that we would be stopping by the house before dinner.

"Young lady!" HC had yelled at me over the phone. "You are in so much trouble! Just wait until I get back home!"

She had to head back to work so I knew the coast would be clear when I got there. Homeless Boyfriend and Huge Asshole exchange hello's. They didn't know each other well, but they had met once or twice in the past. I'm immediately filled with guilt. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, but I still hated the fact that all of this was going down and I hadn't spoken to The Rocker once.

I quickly grab a jacket and head out with HA to dinner. As we sat there eating our meals, he began to vent his brains out to me. He told me about a fight he had got into with his dad and stepmother. He told me about the stresses he was having with one of his brothers. He told me about mutual friends that he didn't like to talk to anymore because he thought they were "fake". He complained and talk down on everyone and everything that was happening his life.

"Wow," I thought. "He is still totally the same person. Narrow minded and judgemental and petty and cheap. Thank god our relationship crashed and burned. This so not a person that I would want to love and be with anymore."

I didn't say any of that to him ofcourse. I just sat there quietly and allowed him to vent.

"Sorry," he eventually says to me. "I don't really have anyone I can talk to anymore. Not the way I use to talk to you that is."

I just smile and say, "It's ok. I don't mind."

I feel sorry for the guy. I had changed so much in the last year since he and I had been together. But he was still the same person. He still trusted no one. Not even himself. He was still in the same place in life and in his head.

We finish dinner and I make the trek back to his house. We pull out front just I was deep in the middle of a Highlander story so I get out and finish it while he smoked a cigarette. Just as I'm finishing up his mom shows up.

"Hi, how are you?" I say to her as I head over to give her a hug. I definitely could have done without a mommy meet and greet right now, but I suck it up and say hello none the less.

"Hey you, " she says back with to me with her British Martha Stewart accent. Both of his parents were born in England. I often wished that their charm and sophistication would have rubbed off on Huge Asshole. They didn't.

Without comment she heads into the house. It was time for me to leave.

I walked over to Huge Asshole and gave him a quick hug.

"Thank you so much," I say to him.

I give him a quick squeeze around his torso. He is almost 6"3 and towers over me. He bends his head and kisses the top of mine.

I walk to my car without further incident. I'm happy. I have my car and I survived an almost pleasant day with Huge Asshole.

As I drive home I pull out my phone to call The Rocker. It goes to voice mail.

"Hey, it's me," I start pathetically, wondering if I should tell him who 'me' is. "I'm not sure what time your off but um...just give me a call when you can."

He thankfully calls back within 2 minutes.

"Hey, how are you?" he asks me, followed by a huge exhausted sigh. This has become his new greeting towards me. A hello followed by an emotional drawn out sigh. I hated it. It made me feel like such a drain. I immediately decide not to mention Huge Asshole. I'd rather wait until I saw him and he was well rested.

"I'm good," I say to him, adding extra energy to my voice. I didn't want him to feel drained by me. I wanted him to know that I didn't need anything from him. I just wanted to share my good news. "I got a car!"

"Really!? That's great. What did you get," he answers, thankfully with more energy.

I give him a quick run down about what my car looks like. When I'm done he starts to talk about when we could see each other. We decide on Friday night.

"Great, so I'll see you Friday maybe," he tells me. "Is that good?"

"Well yeah, except for the maybe part," I answer back. "Why maybe? I thought we agreed?"

"Well, yes. It works for me. I guess I was just thinking in case you couldn't make it," he says back.

"Dude, I can make it at anytime and any date. I've just been waiting on you," I tell him feeling agitated. "I haven't seen you in weeks...I mean how do you feel about all this?"

I did well at keeping the irritation out of my voice because the truth was, I knew wasn't angry. I was hurt.

"Honestly, I haven't had two seconds to even put an answer to any questions like that," he says back to me still sounding exhausted. "Let's just sort all this out on Friday ok? I need to go back to work. I'm still here."

"Ok, I'll see you Friday then," I say back. We hang up.

I'm upset. Hurt. Confused and more than anything afraid. He may not realize how he felt but I did. It sounded like he was done. With us. With me.

I look down at my phone and see that I had received a text while I was on the phone. Surprise surprise, it was Huge Asshole. I should have seen this one coming.

It reads, "I find it funny how spending a little time with you can totally make my week and totally ruin it at the same time, hah I know you understand what I mean."

Uh, not really.

Ok, that's a lie. I know what he's trying to say. I just don't share his feelings. He didn't make or break anything for me. I feel less for him than I do a middle school boyfriend. He was just someone from my past who helped me out of a bind today. That's it.

I don't respond right away. My mind is a million miles away. I'm trying my best to hold back the tears. What was going on with The Rocker? What had changed. I know I didn't do anything. I hadn't seen him to be able to do anything wrong. Maybe he had decided that he was too busy for us? Maybe he wanted to break it off? That would suck. There is nothing worse than a guy stringing you along for weeks just so that he can eventually get you alone and dump your ass.

I get home and walk into Hippie Chicks bedroom.

"What the hell did you do?!" She asks me.

I plop down on her couch and give her a run down of my day ending with the conversation I had with The Rocker.

"There's something going on with him," she says to me, her wheels noticeably spinning. "Why don't you just tell him that you're coming over tonight. Tell him you are bringing over massage oil and some food and you are going to talk now."

My stomach flips in horror! I would never!

"No way dude," I respond. "He would not be ok with that. I don't even think he's home yet. And I learned my lesson after I told him about my blog. Having deep conversations with the guy is never a good idea when he's exhausted."

I turn my face away from her as I start to tear up. This is so draining! This has never happened to me before. I've had plenty of breakups, but never because someone just decided to shut the door on me for no reason. I mean nothing bad had happened! We never fought. We always had an amazing time together. What had gone wrong? Was it all a lie?  Had he been faking this whole time? Is this what he did? Found unsuspecting women online and dated them just to fuck with them?

"Carrie!" Hippie Chick yells at me concerned. "Don't do that! That's it. We're putting you back on OkCupid. I want the old Carrie back. You need to have fun again."

"I feel sorry as hell for anyone who dates me after this," I say back to her. "If this doesn't work out lord help the next man because the real me will definitely be gone. I will totally let WCC take the reins again."

We laugh and I try to pull myself together for her.  I don't want to bring anyone else down. This is my problem. I needed to figure this shit out on my own so that I could move past it.

"Oh, check out what Huge Asshole text me earlier," I say, handing her my phone so that she can read his text.

"Wow, " she says. "Did you send anything back?"

"No, not yet. I don't even know how to respond to that."

"Don't," she says. "Just ignore him."

"I can't," I tell her sighing. "He really helped me today, and I still owe the fool money."

I text him back, hoping that I can make a joke of his statement, "Yeah, my week is totally ruined now lol, thank you again."

"No problem," he replies immediately, even though his original text had been sent an hour before. "Glad I could help. Well I'm glad I ruined yours too atleast...But atleast you got a car out of it ha!"

Huh? You didn't actually ruin my week dumbass.

"You know whats amazing to me," I say to Hippie Chick after I read his response to her. "Here I am in tears about The Rocker, and here this fool is trying to flirt with me. I mean the guy is talking like he and I still have some sort of connection. He couldn't possibly believe that I still love him could he?"

"Probably," Hippie Chick says. "This was probably the highlight of his year. Plus think about it. He will never again get a women as good as you. From this point on it's all downhill for that looser."

Dying to change the subject, I text him if his mom mentioned anything about me being there. Bad call.

"No, she doesn't have to ask. She probably just assumes we're moving in together or something hahaha," he answers.

Wow. I can't even deal. I stop texting and head into the kitchen to prepare my lunch for work the next day. An hour later he sends another text.

"I thought it was funny," it reads.

I sigh, and reply, "Yes funny. Borderline absurdity."

Huge Asshole: "Ehh if I were ever to breathe your name to my family they'd probably assume we would be married in a week haha. K goodnight."

Oh my fucking god! Now he's actually starting to piss me off. This whole time I've been trying to keep things on the friend tip and this guy wants to try and create some flirty 'we are still so in love' atmosphere that quite honestly sort of makes me want to vomit. The only way I was able to get through the day was by not thinking of him as someone I use to date. I just thought of him as...someone familiar that would help me.

I didn't feel shit for Huge Asshole. If forced to attach any type of past emotional feelings towards him I would have to choose disgust. The way he treated me and the way things ended were not ok. It's still not ok. I consider him a lesson learned. I remember everything, especially the way he made me feel. And it was not good.

I stop texting him and instead shoot a text over to the only person I was actually interested in speaking to. The Rocker.

"I hate how stressed you sounded earlier...Please don't let it be over me. I love you to pieces. I'll see you Friday. Goodnight," I send.

The more I thought about it, the more I knew I was right. I hadn't done anything wrong. I think he felt guilty. Guilty for not seeing me. I felt it everytime we spoke. I could hear the anxiety in his voice. I didn't want to be the cause of that. I wanted him to know that I understood and I was here and I still loved him. I mean what the hell? I had nothing to loose. If he was planning on breaking up with me he would have to do it without my help. I wasn't going anywhere until he told me he didn't want me anymore. I meant it when I said I loved him. If he didn't he was going to have to man up and tell me himself. As for me, my love had no expiration date.

He responds to me an hour later with, "You are such a darling. I really, really can't wait to see you Friday night. I'm happy about your new car and I love you!"

I was already in bed, silently crying into my pillow when I received this text. My heart immediately flips with joy! This was one of the only genuine text that I had received from him in weeks. I was so excited that I had finally found the right words to say to get him to remember who I was and how I felt about him.

I wipe my tears and run into Hippie Chicks room to show her the text.

"See," she says to me. "Everything is going to be ok."

I love my friend. The eternal optimist.

Not having a chance to show her the retarded messages from Huge Asshole earlier, I hand her my phone as I try to think how I should respond to The Rocker. His text was sweet and I wanted to acknowledge it. I didn't want to send anything he would have to respond to but I did want it to be sweet.

I decide on sending a, "xx" and punch it into my phone the second  HC hands it back to me.

Can you guess what happened next? That's right. I looked down and realized that I had just sent kisses to Huge Asshole! I quickly try to delete the message before its sent.  I'm not sure if I caught it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to text him again to  check. I resend the kisses to The Rocker, this time carefully checking the name before hitting send.

He texts me back immediately, "Xxxxxxxxx + xxxxxxxxxx"

I resist the urge to text him a smiley face. It was the best conversation we had had in weeks and I didn't want to ruin it. Still unsure if Huge Asshole I had received the kisses or not I decide to shoot him a text about the unsuccessful money transfer I had tried to make earlier instead.

"Bank lied, money hasn't gone through yet. I'll check again in the morning."

I hold my breath. Please oh please say those x's didn't go through...

"That's ok. Don't sweat it. You know I'm not worried about it," he replies. I breath a huge sigh of relief.

Until I read is follow up text. "What's xx?"

It's official. God hates me.

"So sorry. I'm an asshole," I reply. "I text it by accident. Hippie Chick distracted me, blame her...I thought I stopped it before it was sent."

"Did you just send me kissses. Ooooh I'm so telling your boyfriend," he text back teasingly.

Ugh.

"Ha...so not funny," I say.

I know he's just trying to get a rise out of me.  He wants me to think he is just trying to annoy me. But I know his true intentions. He wants to tease me and create inside jokes between the two of us, outside of The Rocker. Like a couple would. Of which we were not.

"I'll tell him anyways. He'll think it's much funnier than I do...that's what I get for not paying better attention to who I'm texting," I say to him.

I wanted him to know that there would be no inside jokes between he and I. The Rocker was my man, not him.

"Awww, mistaken kisses," he says whining. "Now my week is really ruined...haha, I'm gonna go sit in the shower in the fetal position now ass ;)"

Ugh. I swear, no matter what I say the guy can still figure out a way to twist it into something about us. As if! Screw this! It's time to be straight up with the guy. My side stepping obviously hasn't been working.

"Oh please. You know a million times over that I would never send anything like that to you. It was nice hanging out with someone who was my friend at one time, but no sparks. Ass."

I added the Ass part at the end in an attempt to be cool. I know my message is pretty rude, but I just can't take it anymore! I feel nothing for this guy, except growing annoyance.

"Wow," he says, obviously hurt. "Totally joking man. Don't be so sensitive. You know me, if I had anterior motives I would've acted on them...Once your friend? So you're telling me I'm just some random who is there for you at the drop of a dime and you can't help but get along with, but I'm not a friend? :("

Yeah. Pretty much.

"No. Now who's being sensitive? I meant I didn't think of you...," I pause. I don't know what to say. 

A very big part of me knew that he would help me. And for the most part I hadn't felt guilty asking.  Like most of my exes, I knew he will always be there for me. I don't mind asking any of them for help occasionally because dammit they owed me! I had been wonderful to each and everyone of these fools. I just so happened to be the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, for most of them I will always will be.

I gave alot to my exes. I don't fall in love often but when I do I give it my all. I do nothing half ass. I gave and they all took. In the end they realized what they had. In the end they realized what I gave. In the end every single one of them felt and still feel guilty as hell. Thats why they jump at the opportunity to help me. Its a way for them to set things right, and also a way of keeping me in their lives. I know that's what Huge Asshole has been craving. It drives him crazy not having me in his life in some capacity. He still wants to know me and more than that he still wants to be someone special to in my life.

The problem is, he's not. He did so much damage to us that I can barely muster one nice feeling about him and our past. All I see is....a Huge Asshole. I can be friendly and cool. I mean we were friends as well as lovers at one time. But I can't give him what he wants. I can't lie. I don't feel for him what he still feels for me. I don't love him anymore. Not in the slightest.

I don't want to say any of this to him. I don't want to flatter him or lie in anyway but I don't want him to feel used either. I text him the only truth I can stand behind.

"Look, you were there for me just like I would be for you if you really needed me. I'm not sure what to call us, that's all."

It ain't poetry, but atleast I'm being honest.

"I consider you someone whom I know I could rely on in a pinch no matter what," he replies, apparently trying to answer the question for both of us. "So yeah, you're like a friend that I don't have to see for years but could feel right at home with when I do."

Ok, I'll give him that.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," I respond. I'm not sure if I completely agree, but I'm too tired and emotionally drained from my Rocker issues to care.

I stop texting. I figured I'd leave things on a high note. I climb back into bed and try my best to fall asleep.

It was a long day and I'm so happy it's finally over! I'm even happier that I finally know the next time I'm going to see The Rocker! One way or the other all of this is going to end. I've felt paralyzed these last few weeks. Unable to move with or on from The Rocker. At this point a breakup is sounding pretty good. Atleast it would end the day to day agony of living in the unknown.

One thing that I know for certain is that he still loves me. His last text help reaffirm that. I don't know what he's been freaking out on but it definitely has nothing to do with anything I've done. I think maybe he's been freaking out on the perception he has of me. Of what a 'typical girlfriends' reaction would be to all this.

He thinks I'm angry. I'm not. All I want is for him to talk to me. To tell me what the hell was going on! I can't stand this, "We'll discuss it when I see you" crap. Honestly, I don't see anything wrong with breaking up with someone via phone or text. I mean, why would I want to see someone in person for something like that? Why would I want the pleasure of watching them walk away from me? Shoot me a text and be done. No explanations necessary. Say you don't want me and I'm out.

My mind starts to race again and I once again try to clear it. I need to fall asleep! I just need one happy thought. Just one dammit!

I can only think of one. I can now officially say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am no longer in love with Huge Asshole.

I roll over and finally fall asleep.

WCC

Growing Pains

So last night I found myself dateless, holding Andy Dick's beer in a cemetery watching a Flaming Lips Concert...

 

 

Its safe to say the honeymoon phase of my relationship with The Rocker has ended. Its been almost two weeks since I've seen him. Exactly one week since I've heard his voice. Not one voice mail, and very limited texts.

 

 

 

 

We aren't fighting. He's just busy. Its the busiest time of the year for him at work. He warned me he wouldn't have much of a life. He warned me that we would see very little of each other. All of which I understood. The part I didn't expect was the complete radio silence.

 

 

He's never been much of a texter. A painfully lacking attribute on his part. I am a texting Queen. Every job I've ever held has made it almost impossible for me to speak on the phone so texting has been my main source of communication with those I love for years.

 

 

My sister said that she read a survey once that said you could tell a persons age by the way they choose to communicate with you. Long story short, people over 30 traditionally are not texters. They are amongst the dying breed of people who still leave voicemails.

 

 

Her findings made me laugh. The Rocker always leaves me voicemails. Come to think of it, every guy that I've ever dated over the age of thirty has done the same.

 

 

My last two relationships have been with men in their twenties. Nutty as a Fruitcake was 28. Huge Asshole 25. Both of them texted their brains out. It was the easiest form of communication for us. Nutty would always be working on his music so he couldn't speak to me on the phone. So we would text. Huge Asshole was never much of a talker, in person or on the phone, so texting was how I got to know him. Both of them would talk to me for hours this way. Conversations would last all day. It was the next best thing to being with each other.

 

 

These last few months I've dated a few older men. Sinatra was 38. I dated a 41 year old before that. Both of them were phone talkers. They would only text in order to set up an appropriate time to call me. They both would leave voicemails. I can't remember the last time someone I dated in their twenties did that...

 

 

But now even the voicemails have stopped. I'm a patient women. Always have been. I put up with a lot from the men in my life. Not because I'm weak or a pushover. We all know that's definitely not the case. I put up with it because I understand people. I understand men. The Rocker is stressed out. He has been working 12-14 hour days. He gets off work. He goes home. Eats some food, does a few chores, showers...and then if it isn't too late might give me a call.

 

 

He's not waiting because he thinks I'm unimportant. He waits because he wants to give me his full attention. He waits because like most men, multi tasking is not one of his strong points.

 

 

The first week was the hardest. I spoke with him only 3 times. It was awful. I thought he was done with me. He was busy and we were over. I tried my best to stay out of his hair and let him do his thing. But the more I pulled back the less I would hear from him.

 

 

I tried not to be irrational about it. I knew it had little to do with me and more to do with his life. He was trying to get through a rough time and even though he felt guilty and sad that he was pushing me to the side, he didn't feel he had a choice. He didn't' have time to entertain me. He didn't have the energy to care for someone else right now.

 

 

Ofcourse I'm saying that now, but what I was really thinking that week was, "Does he not want to be with me anymore? Has he lost interest? Maybe he realized that having a girlfriend is too much for him right now and he wants out? My calls must be annoying him. My texts are too much. You know what? Screw this! If he doesn't want me then I'm out. Why am I waiting around? What am I waiting for? It's time to bail..."

 

 

Henny stopped me from acting on my normal instincts.

 

 

"Look, I know you. Your just like me. It seems easier just to bail and not deal. But he loves you. You just need to be patient. He's worth it." She said to me.

 

 

I knew she was right. I had a bad habit of dropping men. The second I get the tiniest feeling that they don't want me anymore, I pull the plug on the relationship. Dimples husband made a comment about it when he first met The Rocker.

 

 

"I give it two months before you bore of him," he said to me.

 

 

"What do you mean by that," I asked annoyed.

 

 

"Actually, I'm surprised you haven't dropped him already," he replies.

 

 

I rolled my eyes at him and walked away. But as much as I hate to say it, he was right. Well, partially. It's not that I tire of the men I'm with. They tire of me. Maybe they would have gotten over it. Maybe they were just having a bad week. Maybe like most men they got too comfortable and began to take me for granted. If I just talked to them about it we may have been able to fix the problems we were having. But I wouldn't know because the second they start to leave me on the curb, I kick them to it. I'd rather be the one to end it. I don't want to drag shit out. I'm not into training men. If they can't figure out that I deserve more than I'll do us both the favor of ending the misery.

 

 

I finally saw The Rocker after a week and a half. He looked so drained! I pulled him into my bedroom and tossed him down onto the bed so that he could hold me properly.

 

 

"So my boss invited us out to some bar tonight," he tells me.

 

 

I thought the man had lost his mind. I wasn't going anywhere.

 

 

"Honestly," I tell him, " I don't want to be anywhere that will distract me from you."

 

 

"Good," he says, holding me tighter. "Where do you want to go eat?"

 

 

"I'm good for now," I reply.

 

 

The truth was, I was starving but I didn't want to leave my bedroom. I wanted to hold him and smell him and remind myself that he was still mine.

 

 

I should have saw the problem right then, but I didn't. I instead spent the evening trying to relieve as much of his stress as possible. I massaged his body until his eyes rolled back into his head and then reminded him of the many pleasures a sex deprived women could show a man...

 

 

He walked away spent and happy and we both still felt in love.

 

 

"I promise I will try to do better this week with the texting and phone calls and stuff," he says to me.

 

 

"It's ok, I have low expectations," I reply.

 

 

"Perfect," he says. "Then it will be easy for me to blow them away."

 

 

He didn't.

 

 

The next week was worse. In his defense, he did text me more. The only problem was, the phone calls stopped as a result.

 

 

"I shouldn't be picky," I thought to myself. "He's making an effort. I need to appreciate that."

 

 

We made plans to see each other Thursday night. I was on cloud nine! I was ok with only seeing eachother once a week, as long as that once a week happened.

 

 

It didn't.

 

 

He text me Wednesday saying, "Babes, I hope you're having a good day. Just got asked by the owner to stay late night with him tomorrow. So sorry but this means I'm gonna have to bail on tomorrow nights hangout. I'll call you later. I miss you and this makes me sad."

 

 

I was speechless. I knew I should text him back. I should tell him something supportive like, "Its ok, I understand, love you much," or, "That sucks, I'm so sorry. I know you'll be tired tonight so just call me tomorrow."

 

 

But all I wanted to say was, "You know what, this isn't really working for me and its obviously not working for you so why don't I do us both a favor and just say out loud whats already painfully obvious. You suck ass annnnd you hate me..."

 

 

I decided not to respond.

 

 

The Plex dragged me out for the night. It was a Wednesday but we live in Hollywood so there was plenty to do. We decided to head to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery for a Flaming Lips concert.

 

 

We made a quick stop at the store and picked up some fried chicken and alcohol. We parked a few blocks away and walked towards the Cemetery. Mr. Boston lagged behind with me and asked me why I looked so down.

 

 

"The Rocker canceled on me for tomorrow, " I told him. I then immediately launched into what had been happening the last couple of weeks.

 

 

"Well, maybe he is just freaking out a little about your relationship," Mr. Boston says. "Or maybe he didn't realize how busy he would be and realizes he can't handle both. Or maybe he is just shitty at the phone thing, I mean I know I am, and it all seems worse because you aren't seeing eachother? Or maybe..."

 

 

"Ok stop," I tell him. "Do you now see what I've been going through? Your mind is racing and its only been 30 seconds. I've been in my own head about all of this for two weeks."

 

 

"Wow," he says shaking his head. "I get it. That sucks."

 

 

"Honestly, I'm probably blowing this up," I say. "He probably really is busy and sad that he can't see me and just shitty at this whole communication thing. I just wish he would talk to me about all this. Let me weigh in on it. I want to be a part of his life. Not a piece of it. Pieces break off when times get rough. That's not who I want to be to him. I don't want that to happen to me."

 

 

"You need a drink," Mr Boston says laughing.

 

 

"Yes I do!" I agree. "I'm going to have a drink tonight. Hell, I might even have two!"

 

 

"Ahhh man, The Rocker is turning Carrie into a drunk," Mr Boston says, wrapping his arm around me for the rest of the walk to the cemetery.

 

 

We catch up to Hippie Chick and Homeless boyfriend just as they reach the front gate. As usual we don't have tickets to the sold out event so we wait for reinforcements to come.

 

 

The Street Artist comes rolling up with his new girlfriend, plucked straight from the Twisty Twins. He wanted a girlfriend and she was willing so there they were. New pea's in a pod.

 

 

A few minutes later Douchebag pulls up and gives me a quick hug. He and I have built a nice little friendship now. Its funny how things work out. It's been months since he's graced me with his unsolicited double ass pat.

 

 

"Ok, I have one plus one for this so Carrie come with me and get stamped," he says to me.

 

 

I follow him to the gate and get stamped by the ticket lady. I immediately run back and press my fresh stamp against the hands of Mr Boston and The Street Artist. Hippie Chick then pulls out a black marker and using my hand as a guide, draws the simple stamp design on the rest of our groups hand.

 

 

Stamped and ready we all waltz our happy ass's into the cemetery. No questions. No problem.

 

 

I love this place! I love cemetery's in general. My friends and family all know that if we are driving and I see one, I'm pulling over. I used to ditch school and spend hours roaming through these places reading tombstones and relaxing on the tranquil benches.

 

 

We make our way through the oversized tombstones of old Hollywood stars past to the open grass area where a huge stage has been erected. Off to the left one of the Weeping Willows has been covered with lighted icicles. There are lasers everywhere and people walking around with glow sticks and hats and other raver toys and gadgets. Wait, not people. More friends. We run up and pass out hugs to more of our Hipster group. I see Nails wearing glow in the dark horns and several glow sticks wrapped around his neck. Nice. 

 

 

As I start to lay out our blanket I get tackled from behind.

 

 

"Whats up Bestie!" I hear Glasses yell.

 

 

I turn around and embrace him back. We hop around in a circle for a bit until we start to annoy ourselves and then finally settle down to watch the concert.

 

 

I'm about two drinks in when I finally feel my anger dissipate. I missed The Rocker. I wasn't mad. I wished he was here with me, but I was happy that he was still with me. He was still my man.

 

 

I truly believe that there are only two emotions in this world. All other feelings stem from these two emotions.

 

 

 

The first is Love. The second? You may think its Hate. But its not. It's Fear.

 

 

I was upset with The Rocker, not angry. I wasn't upset because I hated him or what he was doing. I was afraid of something.

 

 

It didn't take me long to figure out what. I've been saying it over and over again for weeks.

 

 

I was afraid that he didn't miss me. I was afraid that he didn't love me anymore. More than that, I was afraid that we were headed for a break up. I was afraid of loosing him. So much so that I almost made the break up happen myself. I was allowing my head to ruin the relationship we did have.

 

 

He was busy. He never said he didn't want to be with me. He hasn't said that he is done. He's busy and I need to just chill.

 

 

Glasses jumps up and grabs my hand breaking me out of my day dreaming.

 

 

"Where are we going?" I ask him.

 

 

"Andy Dick is here, we're going to say hi," he says to me.

 

 

Glasses and Andy are friends. I've never met him so I allow him to drag me along to the front of the stage.

 

 

Andy is there with a small entourage of people. Glasses and Andy embrace and I pull out my camera to snap a few photos of the two of them. Andy decides he wants to take some pictures of his own so he hands me his beer to free up his hands.

 

 

Just then an explosion of confetti gets shot from the stage over our heads. We all scream out in excitement and dance around in the multi colored paper rain. That's when it hits me. What the hell is wrong with me? My life is so full and beautiful. Here I was standing in one of my favorite places, listening to awesome music under the moon with about 15 of my nutty and wonderful friends.

 

 

I love The Rocker, but he is not all of me. I want him to be a part of my life. An important one. But I need to remember how rich my life is outside of him. My world is silly and fun and completely random. If he did decide to break up with me? I would be ok. It would hurt, but I would be ok. I wasn't alone anymore. I would get through it.

 

 

I pull out my phone and begin sending the photos I'd been taking all night to The Rocker. I knew he was at band practice, but I wanted him to be able to see the pics as soon as he was done. I wanted to share my night with him. I wanted him to be able to enjoy what I was experiencing on some level.

 

 

I wasn't angry anymore. My mind was clear.

 

 

I needed to be patient. I needed to stop the crazy. And more than anything I needed to enjoy my life.

 

 

He responds to me once we are finally leaving the concert. The exchange is brief, but I was still happy to hear from him. I'm glad I waited to respond. I'm glad I had time to think.

 

 

 

Whatever is going on with him has very little to do with me. And that makes me sad. I'm not the person he goes too to vent. I'm not the person he turns to for comfort. I don't think it's because I'm lacking something that he needs to trust me. I think he's just putting me and our relationship on a separate pedestal from his life.






 He doesn't think of me as the girl that sits at his house watching TV as he finishes his laundry. I'm the girl he wants to treat and impress and take care of.

 

 

Guess he doesn't realize that I'm not that girl. I crave habit. I crave comfort. I crave normalcy and simplicity. I want to be able to wait for him to get home and rub his back for him until he falls asleep. I want him to call me and feel comfortable bitching his brains out about his day. I want him to be able to lean on me and I want to be able to calm and love and bring peace to him at the end of his crazy day.

 

 

I want to be a part of his life.  A fixture, not an expendable addition. This is the first obstacle that we have run across and I want to be able to figure this shit out and grow from it...and move on already...

 

 

But alas, I can't do any of that until I see him. For now, I'm talking to a wall.

 

 

WCC

Jew Evolution

I spoke with The Crazy Jew today.

That's what I call one of my girlfriends. Don't worry. She knows about the nick name and loves it. And she loves WCC. She's been one of my biggest fans since the beginning. I met her the night I got Partyboys number at the bar near Homeless boyfriends apartment. She's been around for most of my blogs in motion since.

Whenever I post something new, she's the first I call. She met me as WCC. She is probably more familiar with my alter ego than I am so I love getting her opinion.

I messaged her today to see if she had read 'Damaged Goods'. I was freaked. I've never been this open before. I mean I know I've shared everything with you Dear Reader these last few months, but to me it has all been silly fun. Dating these guys didn't really mean anything to me. I was numb and distant. I could talk about them and me because there was never a time where anyone truly meant anything to me.

But writing "Book 2: Poisoned Arrows"? That was hard. That was real. It meant a lot to me. WCC didn't write that. I did. The real me.

That's part of the reason I've been so freaked. I wasn't sure how you all would react, Dear Reader. WCC is funny and light and sarcastic. She talks shit to deal with her pain. She's the one who protects the real me. She's the one you all have come to love.

But now? I'm in love. For now there will be no new characters. There's just me and The Rocker. I've been left with only one choice. Only one thing left that I can write about. And that's my past. I need to write about me.

I can't hide behind WCC anymore. I need to let my voice be heard...and I'm terrified about it.

I saw that the Crazy Jew was online so I sent her a message, "I just posted...I'm beyond freaked about it...I've stepped away from Carrie and the real me is now speaking...I hope the readers won't be weirded out by it..."

"I already read it!!" she sends back.

Gulp.

"I liked it alot. I think its a great direction," she continues. "Extremely interesting."

"Really?!" I reply, relief spreading through me. "Good. I wrote it last night but decided against posting it. I finally got the guts to post this morning. I wasn't sure if it still sounded like WCC you know?"

"It does, but it doesn't. Its like a new evolution," she says. "I dig it. It seems very organic and fitting."

"Yay! It's definitely more raw and real than anything I have written in the past," I tell her. "I want it to be like,'WCC's past revealed'...I'm not sure how much I am going to share. But I realize the more I do, the better it will be."

I know how much I plan to share. Everything. That's the scary part. That's where my hesitation comes in. I wonder if I have the balls to do it.

"That's the rough part about being an artist," she sends me.

Wow. That's what I needed to hear. I'm an artist. If this was easy everyone would be doing it. But this is my skill. My craft. I do what others can't. I share what others won't. For me. And for you.

"Yeah. The hardest part now is knowing that The Rocker is reading," I say. "No one else knows who I am so its not a big deal but man, he's is going to know more about me than he would normally want to."

"Ummmmmm, yeah. It reminds me of when Mr. Big finally reads Carrie's book," CJ says.

"That's right!!" I say laughing to myself. "All she wanted to do was have a fun sex filled weekend with him but he was too upset over the world she had written about him...I hope The Rocker can tell the difference. It's not that I'm making this shit up...I'm just only telling one truth. There are many. I write the juiciest of them."

"I mean that should help you figure out if he is for you," she tells me. "I mean if he can handle this shit, honey, he can handle YOU."

I laugh and sign off.

She's right. I shouldn't worry about censoring what I do. This is my life. I write. I share. Everything. It's my art and I love it. If he's the right one for me, he will love it as well.

So far so good. He has been nothing but supportive. He has learned to love what I do. My writing is another extension of who I am, and he has grown to love it the same way he has grown to love me.

But then again, he doesn't know whats coming.

I do. And soon, so will you Dear Reader. So will you.

WCC

Damaged Goods

I cried tonight. It's been a while. Six months to be exact. That's the funny thing about running away from yourself. Eventually, you catch up...

You see, I'm sick.

One of the many gifts The Ex left me. Besides an enormous amount of debt and countless commitment issues; our dramatic and painful marriage left me with an immune disorder. Incurable. Unpredictable. And totally mine to deal with.

I rarely think about it. I talk about it even less.

I've been having symptoms lately. Nothing horrid. I can handle it. I always can. I always do. The part I'm having a hard time handling is the The Lonely. It creeps up on me at times like this. When it knows I'm at my most vulnerable. To remind me of who I was, where I've been and what happened to me as a result.

I've never been the type of person to ask for help. I don't like to impose my issues, or pain on others. I'm an isolator. Before moving to The Plex, I had spent most of my time alone. Since my divorce the only people I've allowed near me have been the occasional men I chose to date.


Unfortunately I didn't choose wisely. Since most of my marriage was centered around The Ex and his issues; you would think that I would have learned my lesson. I didn't. During a time where I had every right to be selfish and concentrate on me, I decided to choose the worst type of men to be with. Between Huge Assholes insecurities and Nutty as a Fruitcakes soul sucking need for constant attention I was left with little to zero support for me. If I was feeling ill, I would hide it from them. It was lonely but what other choice did I have? How is a person who has issues with asking for help ask for attention from whiny soul sucking dicks?

Huge Asshole was with me when I had to go for my third MRI. He had slept over and was still snug in my bed as I was getting ready for my appointment. I was sitting in front of my mirror putting on my makeup the whole time fighting back the tears.



I hated this. The doctors. The machines. The needles. Not because of the process. That I could handle. I hated it because it was a reminder that I wasn't ok. That I was damaged. That I was weak.



I went over to the bed to give Huge Asshole a kiss goodbye.


"Your leaving?" he mumbles.

"Yep," I replied.



"Did you want me to come?" he asks, eyes still closed.



"No, it's fine. I'll call you after," I told him.



Satisfied with my answer he rolled over and went back to sleep.


I was lying ofcourse. I absolutely wanted him to come. I wanted someone to be there with me. I wanted to be driven and taken care of and reminded that I wasn't alone. Most of all I wanted him to know all these things without me having to ask for it.



I made excuses for him all the way to the hospital. I blamed myself for not asking him. I blamed myself for not telling him how all of this made me feel...

I was alone the first time I was diagnosed. I was alone during the subsequential testing and huge doses of drugs afterwards as well. The Ex always offered to come. I would always decline. It was never a fight. He would ask, I would reply no, and that was that. A quick kiss and, "let me know how it goes babe," was all he ever gave me.


I would make excuses for him too. He needed to work. I was strong. This was my problem and I would take care of it. Alone. He offered, I said no, so it was my fault he wasn't with me...




That's how I use to think. You know what I realize now? All of that is total bullshit! If the tables had been turned, I would have been there. I wouldn't have asked. I would have been in the car ready to go with the fucking engine running...



When I met Nutty, I thought I had finally met someone who cared. About me. He was so attentive! He worshiped me. If I was upset he wouldn't leave my side until he knew I felt better.



One night I had been exhausted, this was before we had slept together, and Nutty had tucked me into bed. He curled up next to me and played with my hair until I drifted off to dream land. Then he got up, turned off the lights and showed himself out.



"Wow!" I thought the next day. "Here's a guy who cares about me. Here's a guy who will take care of me."



The following winter I caught a cold which was piggy backed by bronchitis and then mutated itself into what I'm pretty sure was the Swine flu. One of the many side effects of my shitty immunity. A little sick because a lot within hours. I had a 103 degree fever for 3 days straight. I was deathly ill for a week.



The first day I was sick I had driven home with a 101 degree temperature. I had just got home and collapsed on my couch when Nutty called.



"Ahhh, Pee-Shee joon. Come over. I'll take care of you!" he tells me.


"Pee-Shee joon" means "Kitty Love", more or less, in Farsi. It was one of his many, and favorite nicknames for me. I'm not exactly sure why, but men have always compared me to a cat. My face, the noises I make, the way I stretch and lounge have all driven them to see a resemblance to those finicky felines. I'm sure my attitude may have a little something to do with it as well. That's cool. Cat's are aloof little bitches. I can deal with that.

"Dude, I can't. I just want to sleep. I almost ran off the road on my way home," I said to him.



"Come on...come on Pee-Shee. Come to me! Come to me. Come,"he begins to repeat over and over again. He loves to call to me like I'm an animal. The weirdo actually started to whistle.



"That's not going to work dude," I tell him, too fevered to care if I'm being an ass. "Cat's don't respond to being called to. They come when they want."



And right now, I don't want, so leave me the hell alone and let me sleep asshole.



But he wouldn't take no for an answer. His car was in the shop so he wasn't able to pick me up. His roommate wouldn't be off for another couple of hours and considering Mr Selfish Bastard wanted me with him right that second the only option was for me to drive to him.


I finally gave in. I was worried about being sick and alone. Atleast he was offering and being persistent about it right? It showed he cared. So I dragged myself off my couch, threw on some outdoor PJ's and by a miracle of god I somehow made it to his apartment in one piece.


Part of me was excited. For the first time someone was putting me first. I was ill and he wanted me to be with him. He wanted to take care of me. I was going to be able to stay at his apartment and enjoy someones nurturing care for once...Or so I thought.


The guy almost killed me.


Where do I begin? I was at his house for 3 or 4 days. I'm not exactly sure how long. I was more than a little out of it. My fever never let up during that time. I was in so much pain. My every move made my body ache and throbe. That didn't stop Nutty. Every chance he got he would still wrap me into his anaconda like embrace and suffocate me into cuddling submission. I told him my body hurt. I told him I was hot. But he didn't care. He loved me. He wanted to hold me. He was certain that his overpowering affection would cure me. I was too weak to push him off so I slept the best I could with his massive Leech like arms painfully wrapped around me.


All I wanted was to cool down! One of the days I asked Nutty if he would take a cold wet wash cloth and wipe me down with it. My mom used to do that for me when I was little and fevering and it always did the trick.


He wouldn't do it! Not because he didn't think it would work but because the wet wash cloth grossed him out. You heard me. My gay ass ex boyfriend didn't want to touch the yucky wash cloth! So instead he gave it to me and held me as I very unsuccessfully tried to wipe my own body down around his massive body. Unbelievable.



I thought that would be worse of it until one day he had the bright idea to use a few pumps of hand sanitizer to disinfect my mouth.



"I know what will help!" he announced proudly, right before pumping 5 pumps of gel into his hand and promptly smearing it onto my nose and mouth.



It was horrible!! I couldn't breath! I choked and gagged, each new breath sending the searing eye watering alcohol deeper into my lungs.



"He's trying to kill me!" I thought. "And no one knows where I am. I'm going to be smothered to death by a doe eyed underwear model!"



That's when I first knew. He and I would never last. We couldn't.


There would be times I would get sick. Times where I wouldn't be able to hide it or take care of myself. Was this really the person I wanted to be there with me? Sure he would offer to help but at what price? You have to give the guy credit though. It's not often a person can figure out how to be a selfless needy retarded bastard all at the same time...



Three relationships. All leaving me feeling even more alone than if I was actually...alone. It sucks to be in pain and have to deal with it by yourself. But I do it. Because for most of my life that's the way it has had to be.



I do realize things are different now, but I still can't ask for help. I know I'm not alone anymore. My roomies at The Plex love me. They would be here for me. One word to Hippie Chick about my ailments and she would put the boys to work to help ease my pain immediately.


But I won't ask. I won't impose. I'll deal with this on my own because that's what I've done since my family left the state. I take care of me.



Than there is The Rocker. I know I should say something to him. I know I should share. He isn't selfish. He isn't needy. He would be concerned and would do anything he could to help ease my pain.



But I can't. I'm afraid. I don't want him to think of me as damaged goods. It's bad enough I'm divorced. I don't really feel the need to add the illness bomb to the equation.


I should come with a warning label, "Beware!! If you date this broad you will be Blogged about and dissected for the world to read, you will have to deal with her multiple exes and their incessant cameos and oh did we mention?! She's damaged goods. Divorcee, and a diseased whore!"



Ok. maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Whatever. I'm not feeling well so I'm allowed.



I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning. I usually do. I can deal with what comes.


The question is, can The Rocker? Do I share more details of what I go through or do I wait? When is it the right time to get real in a relationship?


I think it's too soon. I know I won't have to worry about him not wanting to deal like Huge Asshole or him turning into an overpowering needy bastard like Nutty. God there is nothing worse than having to comfort someone else because your in pain.


It's too soon because we are still in the beginning stages of our love. He said it himself. A few weeks ago he was sick and refused to let me come over. Partially because he didn't want to get me sick but also because he didn't want me to feel the need to take care of him.


"Its too soon for you to have to do that," he told me. "I'm disgusting right now, give me a few days and I'll get better."


I was hurt. I told him so later. I told him, "If you think its too soon for me to take care of you when your was sick than it was too soon for me to say that I loved you. Because that's what you do when you love someone. You take care of them."


Not because they ask. But because you love them and wouldn't have it any other way.



He felt bad after I said that. I felt worse. If he wanted to be alone, I was ok with that. I wasn't afraid that he didn't love me. Or that he would think that I didn't love him.


I was afraid that I would get sick one day. That I would want to ask him for help but hesitate because I would remember his words,"It's too soon for you to have to do that...."


I hate asking for help. I hate to appear weak. I hate to be a drain. But that's what I am. I may appear to be strong. I work hard at it. Men have tried to break me down. Girls have pushed their insecurities upon me and tried to taunt me into argument's. Nothing phases me. Because I've been through worse. I took care of it. I took care of me.



But I know the truth. My past and the dramas of the present have little effect on me because I know that the worse is yet to come. I don't know when. I'm not sure how. But it will. One day I won't have a choice. I'll have to ask for help. I'll have to find someone to take care of me.


Will The Rocker want to be apart of that? If it's too soon for me to take care of him when he has a cold what happens when I can't walk for a while? When the doctors force me to take the body altering drugs that I've up to now refused to digest? What if I temporarily go blind? All of these are possibilities and realities. Would he want to be apart of that?



I can't ask. I won't. It's too soon for those questions.

For now, I'm ok. Just a few random symptoms that I can't help but blow up into life altering dramas. That's what I do. I exaggerate. I stretch. I pull. I predict.



I guess there is one thing I can miss about being single. Bouncing around from guy to guy and dealing with their insanities had provided a nice distraction from my past.


I've spent so much time trying to figure out who I should be these last 6 months that I forgot who I was.



Now I remember. I'm the girl who takes care of me. So for now, that's who I'll be.


I think I should share more with you Dear Reader. About my past. About who I was. Who I've been. I think it will help. Both of us.


I may not start at the beginning. I may bounce around a bit. But when all is said and done, you will know. You will know the origins of this Super Hero.


But for now, it's back to the Bat Cave for me. I need to sleep.


WCC

Book 2: Poisoned Arrows

I'm beginning to think that I've never been in love before...

I know you think I'm being dramatic. I'm aware I have a habit of dramatizing certain aspects of my life for your enjoyment as well as my own personal vanity. However, in this case, I swear that's not what I'm doing. I'm serious. I'm seriously questioning. Were my feelings for those who entered my life in the past real or just a byproduct of their unyielding love and devotion to me? Did I feel it, or did I simply allow them to talk me into it?

I don't want to belittle my past relationships but I'm having a hard time remembering one instance where I felt love, real unwavering down to the depths of my soul love, for the person I was with...before they felt it for me.

I remember my first boyfriend. I met him when I was 16 years old. I had just started dating the year before and was enjoying playing the field. That's probably where I developed my legendary self restraint. I was a kid and loved being one. I just wanted to date and smooch on a few cute boys. Sex never crossed my mind and having a boyfriend seemed unnecessary and silly. I guess some things never change...

I met My First at a pay phone in Redondo Beach. I was calling another guy with Daria and a second girlfriend in tow. The plan was for the guys to pick us up and take us to a house party. While we were waiting a 3 car caravan full of dudes pulled up next to us. They had seen us waiting by the phones, and decided to pull over and hit us up. Oh the 90's. The era of beepers and boulevard cruising...

One of the drivers got my number and a few dates later he was trying to lock me down as his one and only. I made the girlfriend/boyfriend titles almost impossible to acquire and the I love yous all but in impossible to utter. I didn't want either but he was so persistent about both. I finally gave into the titles and a few months later gave away my chastity as well. But even after all that the words, "I love you" never crossed my mouth. He held back too. I suppose he didn't want to ruin the progress he had made with me. Until one day, out of no where, I decided to say it.

I'm not sure why I did. I wasn't feeling it. It's not that I didn't care for him. I did. But there were things about him that bothered me.

When we first met I wasn't interested. I mean the guy was a total cupid! A baby face. So not my thing. He was over 6 feet tall which was nice, but he was much to muscular for me. I've always been more of a tall lean type of girl. Not really into the beefy thing. And he was much to sweet and sensitive. I like my men to be men. Let me be the girly one. He hardly spoke in public. Not shy, just quiet. I hated being the spokesperson in our relationship.

But what he did have going for him was his total love and unchecked devotion to me. He thought I was wonderful and treated me accordingly. I mean what's not to love about that? So I eventually said the words. I grabbed him by the face one day and pulled him to me and said, "I love you."

His reaction surprised me. He gasped. Actually gasped! I remember him pulling me into his arms and saying, with much more passion then I had been able to muster, "I love you too!"

The guy teared up. He actually cried! Did I mention he was almost 20? Leave it to me to find a six packed, yoked up, sensitive pretty boy, VIRGIN, to fall in love with me.

I remember thinking that I should be crying too. Shouldn't I be filled with the same warmth and passion that he was exuding from every pore in his body? The problem was, I wasn't.

I eventually got there. I eventually loved him just as deeply as he loved me. Or did I? Does it still count if you eventually learn to love someone because they love you?

The Ex told me he loved me first. It wasn't nearly as sweet of a moment. He was a very matter of fact kind of guy. A real mans man. He simply said, "I love you man. I know I do."

Funny. I don't even remember when I said it back. I know it wasn't immediate...

Wait! I do remember! I said it to him during sex. I planned it. I wanted to say the words during a moment of passion. Wow. It's all coming back to me now. The only way I was able to duplicate the same type emotional energy My First had displayed to me during his I love yous for The Ex was by faking it with a pseudo I love you orgasm. That's what I gave The Ex. Fake passion clouded by my pheromones. And it worked. He bought it. And eventually, so did I.

Huge Asshole was next. He loved me very early on. Lord knows I was in no place to be feeling anything as deep as love for someone at the time. I remember the first time he said it to me. Well he didn't say so much as attack me with his feelings.

We were sitting in my car. We had just left a wedding. His fathers actually. He had married for the second time to a women he had met on Match.com the year before. No shit.

I was a hit. To this day I still talk to several of his family members in England. He was so in love with me that night! I was dressed to the nines as usual. Everyone in the room couldn't stop gushing over me or us. He had me out on the dance floor for most of the night...gazing into my eyes and singing softly in my ear. It was so unlike him! For the first time in our 2 month courtship I stopped. I saw him. I saw that he was looking at me the way the others had. The way My First had so regularly and the way The Ex would when he thought I wasn't looking. He made me notice him and acknowledge that there might be something more here than just a good time. Up to this point I had been enjoying the fact that I could relax with him without having to worry about either of us falling for eachother. This night made me hesitate.

We got into an argument in my car after the wedding. He was frustrated. With me. Apparently his uncle had pulled him aside at some point during the night and told him, "Your in love with that girl."

"No no. We just started dating recently," he told him.

"Look at me," his uncle told him. "You. Are. In. Love. With that girl."

His words made Huge Asshole pause. He stopped arguing. Until he was alone with me. We argued for over an hour until it finally came out. The words he finally realized he needed to say to me.

I still remember the pain in his voice when he yelled, "Why won't you just let me fucking love you!?"

I was speechless. I didn't know what to say. I mean what would I say to something like that?

I knew I didn't love him. Not the way he loved me. I wasn't ready. Besides the fact I was only a few months out from my separation from The Ex, the guy was 8 years my junior! What was I supposed to do with that? How could I responsibly love him? How was that fair? I had lived so much of my life already and he was just getting started. I didn't want to show someone the world. I wanted to be with someone who could show me the world I hadn't seen yet. I didn't want to start over with someone. I wanted to include myself into someones life who was already living.

"Look," I said to him. "I care for you. I really do. But you have to understand. I'm in the middle of a divorce. Which means technically I'm still married. How am I supposed to have a boyfriend when I still have a husband?"

He calmed down a bit. I continued trying to sooth the storm I could see churning inside of him.

"I don't want to say anything I don't mean. All I can tell you is that I'm really happy with you. Everything is simple and easy and sweet. I'm just going through something right now and it's taking everything I have to hold myself together. I don't want to pull you into this," I finish.

"I understand," he replies. "It was just frustrating tonight to hear him say that and know that you pull back from me so much. I just want...forget it. Nevermind."

I sigh and pull him to me. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to ease his pain. The pain caused by me. He didn't understand that at the time, I didn't know how to allow myself to be loved...or how to love someone else freely in return.

Again, it took time. It was hard. We argued and broke up several times. It's difficult loving someone who doesn't love you in return. But he stuck it out and poured his emotional energy on me until I eventually did feel something. I grabbed onto that feeling and twisted it into what I yearned for it to be. I turned it into love. For him. To make him happy. I told him I loved him...Right after we had broken up for the 5th time since the wedding. Right after I had just finished a weekend locked in the arms of The Kid.

I had just flown back from spending two days with The Kid. I can't remember exactly what happened but it had been the first and only time The Kid had ever pissed me off. I remember thinking, "What am I doing? Why am I wasting my time with this ass in another state when I have a man at home who loves me?"

So I came home to Huge Asshole and I said it. Well, I tried to say it. I was having a hard time finding the right words. He was hovering over me watching me struggle when he whispered in my ear, "I don't know why you keep holding back? I don't know what you're so afraid of? Don't you realize that I feel the same way about you?"

He was right. I knew he loved me. It was only right that I should love him back right?

So I said it, "I had a lot of time to think on my trip and I realize now that I do. I love you."

He gasped. Just like My First had. He pulled me into his arms and said, "I love you too baby."

It was done. And over time, I did learn to love him. Didn't I?

Last but not least there was Nutty as a Fruitcake. My rebound. The epitome of forced love and affinity.
He told me he loved me on our 4th date. The crazy part is, I knew he meant it. Everything with Nutty happened very quickly. He's the only person I've ever allowed to call me his girlfriend from the get go. I had to. He didn't date. He was either with a girl or he wasn't. I was still reeling from the latest and worst of my break ups with Huge Asshole. I didn't want to go back to Huge A, or the dramas of our relationship so I dove into the overpowering, emotionally draining love of Nutty.

He just flat out asked me a few weeks into our relationship if I loved him. No one had ever asked me that before! I mean how rude can you be?

I told him I did. I'm not sure why.

"Yes I do," I told him. And to make sure he knew I meant it, I teared. For his benefit. Because I knew it would be more impactful if I did.

I think I wanted it to be easy for once. I wanted to mean it. I didn't want loving someone to be a struggle. Nutty loved me. He worshipped me. He treated me like a princess. I should have loved him in return shouldn't I of? So I faked it until I thought I did. That's when he placed me on a pedestal...and then left me there.

I have my answer. It's true. I've never loved someone before. You know how I know? Because love shouldn't be hard. You shouldn't have to think about it. You shouldn't have to talk yourself into it.

I've spent countless hours trying to decipher my feelings about the men in my life. It's always been a struggle for me to determine which feelings were mine and which were theirs.

I naturally hold back in my relationships. I protect myself. I build a wall around my heart and only pretend to allow it to drop for someone else. To this day, the wall still stands firmly in place.

Until now. And I know the exact moment when it happened. Because in that moment there was no debate. I knew it and felt it with every ounce of my being...

I was laying next to The Rocker. I was comforting him. He had heard some terrible news about a loved one earlier that night and was lost in thought about what to do next. I remember feeling the pain pouring off of him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to hold him in my arms and stop the pain from touching him. I was looking at his face and that's when I felt it. Cupids arrow. That little shit shot me straight through my heart...at the most inappropriate of moments.

I gasped. Just like My First had. Just like Huge Asshole. But this time, I was the one who felt it. The wind was knocked out of me for once.

The Rocker turned and looked at me. He saw it happen. He saw the look on my face. He wasn't sure of what he was seeing but he felt the change. In me. I felt it too. In that moment I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I loved this man.

"What is it?" he asks me.

I wanted to say it. But I couldn't. It wasn't right. This moment wasn't about me. I tightened my mouth and shook my head in a silent, "Nothing."

He let it slide. He left that night without hearing the truth. I didn't sleep.

I loved him and I wanted more than anything to tell him so! I wanted him to know. I wanted to say it before he said it to me. I wanted him to know that I loved him regardless if he felt the same way about me. I wanted him to know that I felt this way freely, without help from him. I loved him not because I had to. Not because I had learned to. But because I just did. It was a truth and a feeling and simply the way things were.

I tried to tell him the next time I saw him. I couldn't do it. I didn't know how to say it. I had never done this before! I was afraid. Not of not hearing it in return. That part wasn't important to me. Real love is selfless. Real love doesn't need validation or reciprocation. I was afraid of not being believed. This was important to me. Not just because it was an important turning point in our relationship, but because this was an important turning point in my life. My worse fear was for it to be taken as a joke or to be written off as another silly girl confusing amazing sex and affection for genuine love.

I could feel! I could love! On my own. Not because I felt guilty or obligated. But because I had met someone so wonderful and perfect for me that my heart had reached out and broken down my wall all on its own...the freedom of it all felt amazing!

I finally forced myself to say it the third night. I had to. I hadn't slept in days. Cupids arrow was stuck in my heart and the only way to get it out was to share the poison with the center of my love and affections.

I was laying next to him on his bed when I said, "I need to tell you something, but I'm not sure how to say it."

I looked over at him. He was all ears. I wanted to laugh. Just moments before he had been exhausted and ready to pass out. Now? He was propped up on his elbow, his green eyes open wide. His mouth set in a half smile. God he's sexy.

"Ok, concentrate," I thought. I looked away and tried it again.

"You should know, I have never ever felt this way first about someone and I've never been the first to say this...," I know. It was definitely the worst I love you speech ever but I knew it was too late turn back, so I continued, "...and even though I'm not totally comfortable with this or us or what I'm feeling just yet, and it will probably take me some time before I can say it freely and be ok with it... I'm pretty sure that I've... fallen in love with you."

I did it! Without crying. Without sex. Without being badgered or chased or convinced. It was done.

I forced myself to look over at The Rocker. He was smiling. He seemed happy. He looked at me lovingly and then leaned over and gave me a kiss. It wasn't gentle nor was it erotic. It was heated and sweet and distinctly him.

He pulled away and said to me, "Well I think that maybe I might sort of be in love with you too."

I laughed. Everything was how it should be. No drama. No faking. Just my bumbling confession and The Rockers dry ever present humour.

It was a moment. It still is. Everytime I see him I think the same thing. "I love this man."

It feels amazing! Over 30 years and countless relationships later it finally happened for me.
I fell in love.

Goodnight Dear Reader. I hope you sleep as deeply as I do now. And please think about what I've said. Don't live your life borrowing the feelings of another. Wait for the arrow. Wait for the gasp. Wait for your Rocker.

Thank you Cupid. Your a wise little shit. Now take this damn arrow out of my heart, it stings like a bitch.

WCC

Lunch Time

I'm starting to understand why someone tried to pop off The Highlander. If "There can only be one," I'd prefer to be the one left standing...

Partyboy stopped by my job the other day. I hadn't seen him in weeks. Not since I brought The Rocker home with me after our first date. I'm still not sure what made PB act so strange that night. I know it had only been two days since our fooling around "incident", but come on? A quick rub down hardly a relationship makes...

We had spoken briefly via Facebook. Not directly, more of the wall to wall type of exchanges. Hippie Chick had posted that we missed him at The Plex. I added that he should stop by my job sometime and hang out. I had switched jobs and now worked in Hollywood, just a few blocks south of Partyboys apartment.

Guess he decided to take me up on my offer and came waltzing in the other afternoon. He definitely surprised me. In a good way. It had taken us months to build our friendship. It would be silly for it all to be over because I now had a boyfriend.

Now that I think about it, I've felt resistance from most of the males in my Hipster crew. Everyone has had an opinion. Even The Street Artist threw in his surprisingly negative two cents.

"I don't know about that guy wifey," he said to me the other day. The Street Artist and I are married now, by the way. We posted the announcement via Facebook after his birthday. We got a few friends to join in on the gag and congratulate us on our "drunken" decision to drive to Vegas and get hitched. We even took a few pictures kissing at Cinespace the other day in the hopes that it looked like a Vegas night club. The ruse actually worked. He's received several congratulations online already.

I think the men in my crew are disappointed that I'm not single anymore. I mean, up to this point, I've been "that girl". The available yet unattainable one. They could flirt and protect me and hold me when its cold. They could call me to hang without worrying about me having to ask my mans permission. They could hope that perhaps one day they could hook up with me. I think they liked to think that the option was there. The fact that I have a boyfriend now? Well that slams the door on all their hopes and dreams. Or atleast that's what I think they believe.

Maybe that's why Partyboy acted so strangely that night. Even though he has a girlfriend, I think he still likes to pretend that he and I are more to each other. He likes to pretend that the option was still there for us. In a way, I guess it was. I did finally decide to cave. Not necessarily because I wanted to...or wanted him. I just wanted to see what would happen if I did. In the same way I had wanted to see what would happen if I saw The Creeper one last time. I wanted to call PB on his bluff and give him the option to be with me. I was curious what the end result would be. But the boy choked, and forced me to slam the door shut on his oversized ass.

"Hey dude, what's up!" I said to him excitedly, walking over to hug him.

"Hey you, " he says to me, using his classic greeting to me. "Thought I'd stop by and finally check out the place."

I give him a quick tour of the store and tell him to wait for me for a sec. I run to my back office to grab the companies Web girl. I work at the corporate store and have a whole team of workers in the back office at any given time. Web Girl read my blog, in its entirety, in one day. Needless to say she was an instant WCC fan.

I pop my head into her office and whisper to her, "You want to meet Partyboy?"

"Uh, hell yeah!" She replies excitedly, jumping up from her chair.

I drag her out front and make the introductions. I can see the dreamy look on her face. Good. Nice to know I describe my characters as they appear in real life. I could see her drooling as she looked up at him in all his 6"3 glory. I told her to keep PB company so that I could grab my lunch. Figured I'd give her a thrill and leave her alone with one of my favorite WCC boys.

After I grabbed my lunch I took PB out front to some tables out of the way from my co workers prying eyes. I may write everything that goes down in my life, but in reality, I prefer privacy.

We talked about nothing in particular. It was mellow. Just two friends shooting the shit on another sunny California afternoon. I think again how glad I was that the other night had happened. It was the last step we needed to solidify that we were just friends. I felt zero heat or connection to him outside of the normal friend zone. Thank god. I don't know what I would do if I had to deal with his unsolicited affections forever. I mean what had been the boys end game? How long did he think it would have been until his girlfriend and I met? The boy would have had a complete freak out/break down for sure. But now? We were cool again. Two peas in a pod.

He told me that The Hollywood Guru asked about me the other day.

"He liked you," he says to me. "He's interested in reading your blog. He text me that he wants to see if your work matches up to your rocket-like karma. He called you a rebel."

I laugh. The Rockers roommates said something very similar about me after the first time they met me. They called me "edgy". Strange statements considering both parties had known me for less than an hour. I'm not sure if it was my personality,blond hair, style of clothes I wear or all of the above that made them say it; but something about me makes people stop. Take note. Maybe I am the type of star HG told me about? Maybe I do give off that tangible energy that people like to watch? Maybe I have "The Darkness". One could only hope.

Our chit chat gets interrupted by a text. I look down at my phone and see an unfamiliar phone number. I had just switched phones and lost a hand full of my contacts so I had no idea who it could be.

All it read was, "How are you?"

I'm not sure why but my first thought was that the text had came from Nutty as a Fruitcake. He'd been on my mind a lot lately. Mainly because I had found a packet of his head shots in my moving boxes the other day. But the area code didn't match up so I thought, what the hell, might as well see who it is.

"Good. Sorry. Lost my numbers. Who is this?" I send.

"This is The Highlander. Remember me?? You abruptly stopped communicating with me!:( "

Oh. My. God. Seriously? I thought I had dodged a very scary stalker bullet and had all but forgotten about this needy freak. I mean what the hell was he doing texting me? I blew you off dude! What the hell do you want?

I quickly show the text to Partyboy.

"What a freak!," I say to him. "Dude, I don't know why I constantly attract stalkers? Or maybe I don't attract them but I turn dudes into them? What the hell should I do?!"

"Yeah, I had the same problem with a chick once," he tells me, ignoring my question and instead launching into a barely relatable story about a girl who's unwanted affections once bothered him.

I swear this guy has ADD. Here I was freaking out about another Highlander assault and there he was ignoring it because for some reason he never likes to discuss my dating life. I'm beginning to think it has nothing to do with PB liking me. I think it has more to do with jealousy. Jealousy about someone in our inner circle being as desirable as he is.

Partyboy is a hot guy. I'm a hot girl. Even now it was evident. Every guy had looked up from their food to watch me walk across the balcony and take a seat. I could see girls taking double takes of Partyboy as they walked by our table. I've caused 4 car accidents in my day. One time while out to dinner, Hippie Chick and I couldn't stop laughing at the Hostess who did everything but jump into Partyboys lap.

I think he's used to being the center of attention. That's probably why it took him so long to let me go. If I was still into him, than that meant he would win the hotness award. He would be crowned King hottie in our circle of Creative friends. Sorry buddy, no tiara for you today. For now I'm the one being stalked so lets freaking focus here...

Two minutes later The Highlander sends a second text, "No comment?"

Needy freak.

I decide to respond. "I'm here. Sorry how things went down. But they did. I have a boyfriend now, so communicating with you really isn't cool."

I figured if he called me, I would throw Partyboy on the phone and have him pretend he was my boyfriend. Maybe shame The Highlander into stopping his disgustingly annoying communications with me.

Ok, that's not 100% true. You see even though The Rocker and I were now sleeping together, I still refused to allow him or anyone else to call us boyfriend/girlfriend. I'm not sure why, but I've always had issues with those titles. In the past it's taken guys months to finally get me to commit to them.

It's not because I didn't want to be monogamous with The Rocker. I was already doing that. I think it's because without a title there can never be a break up. If one day we bored of each other we could just fade away without having to make some grand announcement that we no longer wantedt to call each other by these silly titles. No thanks. If a guy can't figure out that he's my man without having to label us than he's not the right one for me.

Buuut...I have to admit. The Rocker has me twisted. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to say it. I told Partyboy my lame excuse about wanting to possibly put him on my phone with The Highlander but the whole time I had The Rockers sexy face in my mind. Man I wanted that boy to be mine. Title and all.

The Highlander sends this response, "So much for you not wanting a relationship right now. I wish that you had just been honest with me after all the time we had spent getting to know each other. Even as friends. That's the least I deserved. Take care."

You have to be fucking kidding me dude?! So much for me not wanting a relationship right now? I didn't want one with you buddy. Take the freaking hint. And all of what time getting to know each other? We met one time!! Once! And had tea and Persian cookies. Why in the hell do you think you know me?! Why do you think you deserve anything from me?

I'm too irritated to respond at first. Two minutes later I get another text. "PS. Never said I was only interested in dating you! Just thought we had a good time together..."

...after that whole one time we met, because I'm a freak and never see anybody so I've decided to latch onto you and give you shit for having the nerve to date someone else and not stay friends with me because I deserve first dibs on you because I was in an accident and you should feel sorry for me and want to be with me because I'm freaking insane!

Ok, he didn't text that last paragraph, but you get my drift...

My lunch break is over and it's time for me to head back into the store. Partyboy walks me back in and asks what time I get off.

"I should be done around 10pm," I tell him.

"Cool, well maybe I'll swing by later," he replies.

Boy please. Maybe? We all know you'll be back.

He gives me a hug goodbye and heads out. I see my staff follow him out with their eyes. I laugh to myself. Even though I'm aware that Partyboy is a good looking guy, he's so not my type. I need a little swagger to my man. I fell for the guy I met on New Years. That guy had balls. The man who just walked out the door on the other hand? That was just my buddy Partyboy. The guy who passes out on my bedroom floor on a regular basis and still gets nervous when I'm around and texts me constantly to see if he can come hang out and play with me and The Plex Force because deep down he an oversized puppy who just wants to be friends with well...everyone.

I head to the back office to send a reply to The Highlander. I'm done playing this game with this guy. If honesty is what he wants, than honesty is what he's going to get.

"You got more than a little strange dude," I start. "Kind of scared me to be honest. And not that this is any of your business, but I wasn't ready for a relationship when I met you. This guy is just patient and doesn't' ask or push me for anything. He gives us space to just be. And surprisingly we just clicked. That's how it goes."

I reread my text and satisfied with my response, I send it. I'm surprised by my words. I had intended on feeding him a semi lie but instead I ended up with a surprisingly accurate description of my current relationship. It was all true.

When I met The Highlander I wasn't ready to be in a relationship. I was still trying to figure out who I was and knew well enough that I didn't want to get sucked into The Highlanders world. I had told him that he needed more attention than I was willing to give. I was tired of the men in my life being the center of attention. With all that The Highlander was going through that's exactly what it would have been like. I mean he was doing it even now and we weren't even together!

Ten minutes pass without a response from him. I knew one of two things were happening. He was either so butt hurt about my text that he had decided to leave me alone. Fat chance for that theory...or the more likely of scenarios. He was now writing a 3 page response via text to me and I needed to be patient and wait for the onslaught.

The next text came in 9 pages long.

"That's fine. I'm not someone to be 'scared' of; so I kinda take offense at that." He starts.

You take offense of my fear of you? Uh, ok.

"But anyhow," he continues. "Like I had suggested to you when everything got 'strange'... "

God I wish he would stop inserting quotes from our past discussions. Freaking stalker.

"... between us, it was more a complication of discussing something serious via text..."

Yeah, it's the texting that makes you seem nuts.

"...I tend to be a rational and reasonable person and I'm sure we would've worked through the misunderstanding! "

I can't even comment on this line. I'm on sarcasm overload. It's quite possible my head might explode.

"...But you never afforded me the respect to do that because you just cut me off; which to be perfectly honest, I didn't expect of you."

Now he's pissing me off again. He wants to talk about respect? How about a little respect for my personal space dude? I have every right in the world to decide to not speak with you. I owe you nothing! You don't know me. How in the hell could you possibly know what you could or couldn't expect from me?

"...As you were well aware," oh yeah, he's still going, " because of the honesty and candor of our interactions, it was very hard for me to reach out to anyone after my accident. I did with you because I thought you were special and that we 'connected'; because I had spent so much time alone, it was difficult for me to taper my desire to interact with you. That's all!"

It was hard for you to reach out to anyone? We met on a dating website dude?! What did you think you were doing if not reaching out to meet people?

"...Anyhow I'd like us to be a part of eachothers life in some capacity; but clearly it takes 2 people to make that happen?!"

This guy can't be serious? Is he really still trying to be friends after all of this?

"...since we were just friends and had never dated and you do have male friends, I don't see why that wouldn't be possible?? Unless of course you don't want it to happen?"

Is that really a question? I stopped talking to you, and now I'm telling you that you're scaring me but this psycho still thinks there's a possibility that we could be friends? Am I on fucking candid camera right now?!

"...I'm really sorry that you felt 'pushed' by me because I'm generally very patient and that was more an unfortunate by-product of my circumstances."

You know since I am totally insane and all.

I'm done. So done. I don't want to know this person. I don't want him to contact me or know me. I want him to just go away. Now.

"Look Highlander," I text back. "I listened to my friends advice at the time and stopped answering you. Everything just got so over the top. Like I told you. I don't want to be anyones connection to the outside world. I don't need the reminders of what you went through. It comes across like you are trying to guilt me into staying friends with you. It's too much. We didn't know each other for that long nor did we know each other very well. You know so so little about me you have no idea. It's weird that you are still trying to contact me. I think its best that we just drop it. I'm not comfortable with you anymore."

"Wow, 'trying to guilt you into staying friends'," he responds. "Ok, enough said, I'm sorry to have bothered you. It was an honest mistake!"

In the middle of my cleansing sigh at what I thought was his final response, I get another text. I swear, he's like one of those psycho killers in the movies who you think is dead but the second the audience relaxes the psycho comes back ready to strike one final blow at the innocent teens until the leading heroine finally decapitates the bastard...

"I told you why I had contacted you and it was clearly NOT for anything you just rattled off! Take Care," he finally finishes.

I don't respond. I'm totally drained. I hope it's the last time I hear from him, but who knows? The audience loves them a sequel.

I head back out to the sales floor and Web Girl asks me what happened. She has the same excited grin that Pop a Squat gets whenever she is around my blogs in motion. I show her the text and tell her about my lunch with Partyboy.

" I swear, when I first read your blogs I thought there was no way all of these things could really be happening to you," she says. "I mean at first I thought, 'does she ever get any sleep?,' and than I thought that you must be making some of these events up."

"Nope," I tell her. " I don't sleep much and I never make any of it up. I mean I may stretch and pull my own personal opinions about situations, but the facts of the stories are all true. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried."

She heads back to her office happy and spent.

I'm exhausted. Man that guy is draining.

Luckily the rest of my day is text free. At closing time, Partyboy walks back into the store holding my favorite tea latte. Vanilla Robust with soy and two pumps of suger free vanilla syrup. Hippie Chick is right. This guy really can be charming when he wants to be.

I close up shop and we head out together sipping our warm Starbucks cups.
I offer him a ride home.

"You can just take me half way, I can walk the rest," he says to me.

"Don't be silly. Your super close dude," I say to him. "I pass your place all the time on my way to The Rockers house."

"So which one is The Rocker," he asks me. "Is he the guy that sings Sinatra songs?"

"No," I say laughing. "I call that guy Sinatra. I don't talk to him anymore. The Rocker is the guy you met the other night at The Plex."

"Oh thats right," he says nodding his head. "That was the day I was being all wierd and I left early..."

I look over at Partyboy in surprise. I swear, I may write Partyboy dumber than he is. I think his self awareness is alot more heightened than I give him credit for. A fact that worries me. I've given the boy excuses for his past behaviors because I figured he didn't know any better. But this little statement has me thinking twice about, well...everything.

"So things are good?" He asks me.

"Yeah," I respond. "I don't know how it happened but cupid came and bit me on the ass and out of no where, I'm in love."

I have no idea why I just said that to Partyboy, but I know immediately that I mean it. Like I said, some people just click. I'm pretty intuitive. I usually know immediately if someone is destined to be in my life. Friends or lovers. And I knew The Rocker was right for me.

"That's cool," Partyboy says. A simple statement I know, but he means it. Talking about all of this isn't strange. Partyboy is my friend. We're close. He's closer to me in many aspect than he even is with the Party Guys. It's sort of fitting that he's the first person to hear me out my feelings about The Rocker.

I pull up to Partyboys place and he turns and gives me a hug and kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you, see you later," he says. "Maybe I can stop by again and we can do coffee another time?"

"For sure," I tell him.

I let him off and head back home to The Plex.

What a strange day. I feel like I shut the door on two relationships and opened another to a new.

I love The Rocker. Not in the funny, 'I'm just being silly' sort of way. But the real head over heels, lasting, no matter what may come kind.

Oh shit. This can't be good.

WCC

Carrie

I'm sorry Dear Reader. I know it's been much too long between post. I've been insanely busy and have neglected my online duties to you, my ever faithful army of WCC readers.

I'll be back at it soon enough. I have stories galore, all securely locked away in my ever active brain.

I've heard news from The Highlander. That's right. Mr. Needy stalker himself. The best part is, he called me while I was out to lunch with Partyboy. I swear I couldn't make this shit up if I tried...

I got a text from the Hollywood Guru this morning. He read my blogs and the inevitable happened. He is in love with WCC. It's hard being a Super Hero. People tend to forget the real person behind the mask. I promised him a coffee date so that I could show him the difference between me and my alter ego.

It's funny. The first month I started this page I busted out 23 blogs. I spent every spare moment I had writing about my life. The postings have been drastically dropping ever since. The difference now? I'm not just writing about my life. I'm living it. I'm present. I'm seeing my life through my eyes not just through my notes. I'm living in the moment and loving my journey in the outside world.

But don't you worry. I still want to share with you all that I do. There are exciting things to come and I look forward to getting your continued feedback on the ups and downs of my life.

There's only so long the Bad ass, Smart ass who puts men on blast Carrie can stay quite.

So stay tuned. Same Bat time. Same Bat channel. My life is still a blasty blast.

I'll be talking you with soon,
WCC