Thursday, December 08, 2005

"We will get through this together baby"

No this isn't what I said to a guy who wanted me to keep the baby.

I'm fucking kidding about the line up top.

Please, I am waayy to germ phobic to fuck a guy w/o a condom and like 5 back ups of birth control, including prayer. Do I need to remind you of my sex talk that my father gave me gun and all?!

Actually, those are the words I told John when he told me he was UNEMPLOYED...(yes, the guy who has the bigger bedroom in the apt)...HE NO LONGER HAS A FUCKING INCOME.

John has no employment.

So of course being a good friend, I suspend this evening of dancing with the Go-Go boys at a vendor party in a penthouse in NYC (3 blocks away from my apt too, and free booze!!) and take John out for a $150 meal to say, "We will get through this."

Yes, I did use the word 'we'. He is my gay faux-boyfriend afterall. I am prepared to go food shopping at the office pantry, filling my oversized handbags with Ramen, cup-o-soup, and other crap that he will have to eat because he is UNEMPLOYED....and we have a $2400 rent with a lease that has both of our names.

$150 will get you decently drunk, especially when yuo go to a local small restaurant, and tell the waiter your problems and the wine glass becomes bottomless.

I didn't realize how botomless that glass was until I stood outside drunk standing in a parking spot in front of our apt building, holding it for his friend who drive in from LI to prevent John from jumping out the window. John and I sang, "We shall not, we shall not be moved." Over and over, until Lucy met us at the perfectly located spot.

Suffice to say, I am drunk as I type, wanting to sleep, since I spent the night at a boy's house.

Went into work 3 hours late because I couldnt drag myself from his bed...well, and because he lived all the way uptown and I was too cold with feet tired to walk to the subway with 4'' heels on, in my walk of shame wear that doubled as office clothing.

And yes he is British...

Some women go for black men.
Others go for Latinos.
I have a British fetish...At least it isn't necrophelia or anything.

But with studying for my stats final and working during Q4 in the ad world, my posts are going to be a little infrequent from here until the middle of next week or so. I need an A so I could get into Columbia...Plus there are too many Holiday parties for me to pass up the free booze...

But I fell asleep in a strange bed last night.
Tossed and turned because I cant sleep next to anyone unless I am bombed out of my mind (yes I know I need a therapist, but I am sure you do too).
Woke up to kisses on my forehead...
And a growing realization...


At 2:24 PM, Blogger Hæ★ said...

WTF??!?!?! John got FIRED?!?!? I had to read that several times-- because I read FRIED-- not FIRED-- because being "fried" makes sense but not Fired.

Oh. . . I'm so so sorry.

At 1:46 PM, Blogger Corinne said...

shit... i however think you did exactly the right thing. get him pissed drunk and singing out a window several floors up in freezing nyc. damn you are the best faux-girlfriend ever. tell your faux-boyfriend i'm so sorry.

At 1:47 PM, Blogger Crazy Girl City said...

Nah, I don't think you need a therapist at all. We all have our issues.

At 9:08 PM, Blogger stillsoulsearching said...

I too have an obsession for brits -lets face it - they know how to snog!


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