Saturday, November 12, 2005

I had it coming

First my job gave me heart palpitations, constantly scared that I would mis-allocate thousands of dollars (which I have) and my 15 bosses who I have to report into would realize that I am a horrible media planner (they noticed on day 2). With the perpetual stress, came the dandruff. White flakes falling onto my shoulders each time I, absent mindedly in my nervous habit, scratch my head. Now, with the vendor lunches and dinners and my 3pm M&Ms addicted stress eating, the weight has slowly creeped up.

I am getting fat. No, seriously guys. I think I have to join Curves or Jenny Craig or I am never going to get laid. Or only by busted fat guys.

The only thing I had going for me, a cute body that brought dinners, drinks, and ass, I am cannibalizing it with over priced vendor lunches and dinners and the heavy drinking that allows me to get over the fact that I cry at my desk every day. Seriously, I have creeped out my co-workers.

Think about it for a sec. You work next to a girl who dresses badly, has a dandruff problem, and cries at her desk, everyday. Every fucking day.

I wouldn’t talk to her either. Actually, I would talk to HR about a possible intervention for that sad girl.

It’s like my own book of revelation coming to life, payback for the sin of ignoring my personality. Especially since my version of budgeting means opening up a new credit card with 0% interest and a free balance transfer.

First the plagues, then the locusts, now realizing that you are becoming your own version of hell.

Couple this with my perpetually single friends, player brother, co-workers, this guy, and the homeless man on the street, are coupling off. This isn’t just a summer thing, its an age thing. I am going through that weird 5 year period where all of your friends find their first-husbands/wives.

And I sit here and get fat, having difficulty fitting into the cute clothes I bought when I went on the meningitis diet. My body is in that weird in between phase. Too thin for a ‘chubby chaser’ to find me attractive (I don’t have enough cushin’ for the extra pushin’) and too fat to be hot and make out with boys other than the guy who brought you to the bar, basically be a bitch.

But fate has a lovely way of granting me humility, especially on days when I really wouldn’t benefit from it.

My friend Hope is in town from MoHo and has been staying with me in my apt in GV. It’s her first time in NYC so I take her on a post-dinner walk, careful to avoid the blocks where I self-blacklisted myself because of stupid drunken behavior. I don’t walk down a certain block because a certain someone who I left inside the bar as I made out with another guy outside the bar, lives on that block.

Hope and I take a walk and end up in the LES in front of my friend’s apt. Yes, that friend; the friend who is my bad influence because each time we hang out I end up clutching toilets the mornings following our drunken debauchery. Against sound judgment, I call him and tell him that my friend and I are downstairs and we would love to go for “a drink”. Because my friend and I are on an impromptu walk and not thinking that I would be running into anyone who I knew, much less look cool in front of, I am in less than hot mode. Messy bun, ripped jeans, polo shirt and sweater. Throw in that I have recently been gaining weight and I’m not hot looking that night.

We go inside, walk up to the bar, and my friend greets someone whose back is turned to us. The guy turns around and Fuck! I realize it’s the guy who I left inside the bar as I made out with another dude outside. And I am not hot tonight. And I am a little fat looking in baggy impromptu-walk clothes. And, scarily of all…I have no make-up on.

As an aside, make-up is my Mr. Hyde potion. Without it, I’m cute, sweet looking, I look like your sister who is 15. Seriously. My face is very young looking. I look like this Sun-Thurs nights, the nights when I am not dancing on bars and bleeding men for drinks. The weekends I dress and put make-up on like a whore. My hair blown dry straight, carefully applied eye liner, and wet pouty lips.

The girl I am during the week looks NOTHING like the woman who I present on the weekend.

Back to the story.

I slap on my fake smile, “Hi! Mike this is my friend Hope from college”

Mike looks down at his beer.

Awkward silence and looking down at the floor between us.

As my friend starts talking to Mike, Hope and I walk over to the corner to put our asses and stuff down. A few minutes later my friend joins us, without Mike. Beers are flowing, we are having fun…and Mike joins us as I am getting up to go back to the bar. The round was on me, as I am taking everyone’s orders I turn to Mike and ask him what he would like.

I mean, it is only fair considering that I drunkenly invited myself up to his apt and then proceeded to pass out on his couch within 2 mins of getting there and then leave his apt the next morning without saying good-bye.

That beer turns into an ice-breaker between me and Mike, and we start to talk to each other inter-conversation. The beers take their effect, I go from anxious and self-conscious how crappy I looked to confident girl-whore. I am having a great time talking to him except that I am realizing, I am asking him questions that I know he answered when we first met. And I know this because of the weird looks that I get throughout the course of a conversation.

So let’s recap, shall we?

The Wizard has been revealed, and we learn that I am not as hot without Manolo, Sevens’, straight hair, and Chanel make-up. Furthermore, not only am I not as cute when we first met, but I have also gained weight. I have also not remembered a word of our first conversation, and by the end of the night, I was dancing on a bar with flip flops. NOT SEXY.

Mike, you won.

Running out on you that morning was dick of me. I should have instead cuddled up next to you and offered you a blow job for putting up with me when I was a drunk whiney girl and passing out on your couch. And you, unlike most people in this world, got your just revenge for someone being an asshole. Karma has gotten revenge for you.

My book of revelation has begun its sequence of wrath. First the plague, then the locusts…


At 7:37 PM, Blogger Hæ★ said...

Please, you did him a favor. Afterall, your disinterest would have come out sooner or later. If you run out on a guy when you're drunk, you're clearly not that interested. Give yourself a break!


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