Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough

"How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being?"

“I’ve always liked Mike. But you know, if you don’t think he’s right for you, then maybe he’s not.” My girlfriend, Jack, takes a long drag off her hand rolled cigarette and blows the smoke out of the side of her mouth. She takes a sip of tea.

            We’re sitting outside at a café in Silverlake. I’m ruminating over my relationship and having a walnut and pear salad. 

            “I just don’t know what’s going on with me. Everything has been great between us since the last big fight. Our anniversary is coming up—three years. When we celebrate our anniversary, it will officially be the longest time I’ve ever been with anyone. Most days I think I am head over heels in love with him. And sometimes all I can think about is getting out.”

            “Does this have anything to do with Travis?” She asks me directly and laughs a little. A cute waiter walks by and checks her out. She doesn’t notice.

            “No. That’s ridiculous,” I say, shoving baby mixed greens that tastes like pine needles and goat cheese into my mouth. “I mean, I don’t know. I feel like everything that is happening between me and Travis is a symptom of a much bigger problem.”

            “What problem do you think that is?”

            “I have no fucking idea, Jack. Maybe that I’m not happy. Maybe that I have commitment issues. Maybe that I’m coming to the realization that maybe Patty Smyth is right and sometimes love just ain’t enough.”

            Okay, in truth I didn’t use her name. I did however break out into song for a moment while Jack sat and stared at me. Apparently, she wasn’t familiar with the song. This is one of the many times I have looked like a fool while spending time with her.

            “What is going on with you and Travis right now?”

            “I don’t know. Nothing. I promised Mike that I wouldn’t talk to him anymore. But we still work together, so, I mean, I see him every Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And we still sneak cigarettes together. Take little breaks, try to catch up as much as possible in the minute amount of time we have together.”

            “So, you still really want to spend time with him?”

            “Of course! The juvenile in me probably wants to spend time with him out of defiance. But I also really enjoy his company. It’s simple, you know? We just have a very simple relationship. It’s not complicated. There’s no chatter of bills and groceries and who’s doing the dishes.  We get high, we listen to music, we quote Dave Chappelle. It’s easy. And what? I’m not allowed to have certain friends? Or make new friends? Or ever have friendships with men ever again?”

            “I agree with you that Mike is a little jealous, slightly possessive even. But the other stuff.. You know that’s not reality, right? You don’t talk about bills and dishes because you’re not in a relationship with him. But you would, if you were.”

            I ignore this reasoning. It seems irrelevant. It’s irrelevant because I do not want to be in a relationship. With Travis, or maybe anyone.

            “I just think it says a lot that Mike and I are happy and doing well and I still have anxieties. This is the best our relationship has ever been. We’re communicating well, we’re treating each other with respect, we’re not fighting. We’ve been doing little things for each other. Like, giving each other little treats or doing chores out of turn just to help the other person out. And I still crave more. I keep thinking there’s more out there for me. I don’t necessarily mean this the way that it sounds, but I keep thinking that there’s someone better. Or something better for me. If I can meet someone like Travis, and have such an amazing rapport with, maybe there’s someone out there that compliments me more than Mike. What if stopping at Mike means I’ve settled?”

            Jack doesn’t respond. She stirs more sugar into her tea and just looks at me and shrugs.

            “And besides that, when I get off work, he comes to pick me up. We text and call each other before every single activity. He calls me when he’s off work, on his way to school, when he has to pick something up at his mother’s house; I call him when I am on the way to the grocery store, when I want to book a flight to go to South Carolina to see my family. Why do I need permission for that? Why do I have to report every single miniscule part of my day? Because heaven forbid he doesn’t know exactly where I am at any second. It’s not that he makes me do this, or even asks me to. But this is what happens. In a relationship. There’s no privacy anymore and no personal freedom. It’s goddamn depressing.”

            She maybe was about to respond, but I was on a roll. The anger hamster decided it was time to go for a run. The wheel was spinning at record speeds.

            “Okay, you’ve been with Joshua for almost 6 years. What keeps you two together? How are you not desperate to sleep with other men?”

            “I am desperate to sleep with other men. I think about it all the time.”
            “Maybe you’ve never done this before. I’m looking for advice here. Wanna help a friend out?”

            Her tea is empty. She looks disappointedly at her empty mug. She picks a walnut off my plate without asking and dumps salt on it. “I can’t tell you what you want. All I can tell you is that you have a good thing with Mike.  I don’t want to see you lose something to your lack of will power or commitment. Relationships are hard. They require work. And sacrifice. I know everyone says that, but it’s true. You’re not always going to be able to have all the friends you want to have. You’re not always going to have all the personal time you’d like to have. You just have to decide that your love for him and his love for you is stronger than your selfish needs.”

I Want Someone Badly

"If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life."

I met Mike when I was a floor manager at a luxury retail chain that shall remain nameless—not so much for their protection, but because I don’t want to admit that I worked in such a competitive, capitalistic, first world, bourgeois, bullshit establishment that contributes to image obsessiveness and class oppression. Actually, I liked the job when I had it—I got all kinds of great clothes for cheap!

When Mike started working at the store, I had a boyfriend. I had been dating him for about a year and just weeks before had told my mother I think that I was dating “the one.” I was 23, was still pretty new to Los Angeles, and that was my second serious relationship. In hindsight, I think I was hoping it was The One just so I could feel like there was some stability in my life. I was happy. Bird, a nickname I gave that boyfriend, was a good man. He picked up dinner and liked word games. He lifted heavy things and he installed shelving in my apartment. What more was I looking for? Mike, on the other hand, was incredibly irritating. Antagonistic and rude, constantly complaining about his job, got along with everyone better than me, he was insubordinate and took a smoke break every 20 minutes. We were bickering and at each other’s throats constantly.

I hated him so much that it was VERY IMPORTANT to me that when I was going to be working with him, I had to look flawless. Perfect hair, perfect make-up, tight skirt, cleavage, heels. Take that! On the mornings when he and I opened the store together, very little would get done. We took our time going to the bank depository, would invariably go get coffee, smoke a cigarette together. He would distract me from doing the paperwork I needed to get done. He would regale me with stories from the night before: he and his friends drinking in a parking lot and fighting and racing and being broken up by the police. The more he talked about it the more jealous I was. And the more I felt left out. I wanted to be invited. Why did he tell me stories about his awesome nights and never invite me to be a part of them? I desperately wanted to be Mike’s friend. I remember I got really mad at him about it one day. I stopped talking to him and when he finally asked me what the hell was wrong with me, I said, “You never invite me to hang out with your friends! I mean, you treat me like I’m your friend. So, are we friends or aren’t we?” He fumbled over himself a little and told me he couldn’t spend time with me because I had a boyfriend and it just didn’t seem right. I was hurt and sad and overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions I didn’t understand. Later that day, he and I were both on the sales floor and when I asked him to do something he refused. We started bickering loudly until my store manager just looked at us both, laughed, and said, “Would you guys just fuck already?”

If you can believe it, it honestly hadn’t occurred to me until precisely that moment that all the bickering and the desire to spend time with him and the teasing and primping was because I was attracted to him. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I must have turned bright red and I’m certain that like a 12 year old I said accidentally too loudly, “Eww! What?!”

If I could put a video montage here, the clips would go something like this: cut to Mike finally inviting me to an afternoon barbeque with some of his friends and we drink and laugh and smoke all afternoon; cut to meeting him and his friends at a coffee shop, smuggling in booze and spiking drinks, staying there until 3am when I knew I had work at 8; cut to me driving home late one night getting a call from Bird and hitting the ignore button; cut to Mike and me in the parking lot of a Carl's Jr. admitting that we like each other but can't do anything about it; cut to me pretending to get too drunk at a bar with Mike and his friends and insisting he let me sleep at his place which was much closer than mine; cut to Mike tucking me into his sister’s bed in the next room and me getting up a little while later and crawling into his. Before you judge him, let me prove that he was a good man and did the right thing. While I had apparently decided that I was ready to cheat on my boyfriend, Mike wasn’t willing to allow me to do that. He got out of bed, sat at his desk and lit a cigarette. He sat there and stared at me. He watched me fall asleep and I guess he never slept at all. The next morning I got up and we went to open the store together. Cut to Mike and I and a mutual friend and coworker drunk at a bar a week later. Cut to the moment being so perfect and the most passionate kiss on the balcony of this bar. Cut to me giving the security guard the finger for trying to tell us the bar was closed while I was clearly in the middle of something. We continued making out in the alley. Cut to me not calling my boyfriend for three or four days. Cut to an awkward Valentine’s dinner with Bird. Cut to breaking up with him, leaving his apartment and heading straight to that coffee shop to embrace my new life.

One night, Mike finally let it slip that the only reason he started working there to begin with was to meet me. He had been working there for 6 months, getting to know me, getting close to me, just waiting for me to break up with Bird. I think he would have waited forever.

I had been in love once before but I was 17 then. Everything felt different and new again with Mike. Our time together was so precious to me. Besides his jokes and comforting demeanor, he had a great love for his friends and a great respect for himself. He knew who he was and he was proud of it—he was the first man I had ever dated who was comfortable with himself. And on top of all of those qualities, I was brimming with lust for him. I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. We would ditch our friends and go make out in the alley or the car. We would have to pull over on the way to dinner. We wouldn’t even make it to dinner. Being with him was like being with the embodiment of your favorite guilty pleasure. He made me feel like the most powerful woman in the world. And even though I tried to resist it, I fell for him.

Our three-year anniversary is coming up soon, March 10th, in fact. Because of everything that’s been going on, and not knowing whether or not we were going to make it to our anniversary, nothing has been planned. I want to give him something special. I want to show him how much he means to me. And I want to let him know that I know he deserves better than what he’s been getting from me lately. For now, I honor him with this song that always makes me think of him. I love you, Mike.

Feeling Blue

 “There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”

I met Travis about 6 months ago when I started working at a new job. I’ve been serving and bartending for a while now, all over Los Angeles, and even had a brief stint as a bar manager until that place closed down. It was closing before I took over that position – before you start blaming me for destroying someone’s business. But this place was new. It was different.  It felt like home right away. There is something very comforting about the space and the food. The entire staff save a few had been there since the place opened years ago. It was like marrying into the best family ever.

I was hired to host and serve weekend brunches. I had experience for a much better position but I had been without a job for so long at that point that I was happy to take whatever came into my lap. My first Sunday morning at the restaurant, I met three people that apparently were destined to change my life forever. Anna, Mike – not my boyfriend, and Travis.  The boys were relentless in their flirting. It took them approximately 30 seconds before beginning to lay it on thick. Subtlety has never been Travis’s strong suit.  In truth, that first day, it was his friend Mike that I was the most flattered by. I soon found out he had a girlfriend and why was I even thinking about that anyway? I had a boyfriend at home too. Regardless, a friendship was born. They were fun. They were potheads. They were musicians and loved folk & classic rock. We bonded over Creedence Clearwater Revival – it comes on the playlist still every Sunday morning at 11:43am. In the three of them, I saw something special. It felt like I had met soul mates.

I’d been in Los Angeles for a few years and had been struggling to make friends out here. It’s difficult to connect to people here. It’s difficult to find sincerity and simplicity in people. Simplicity is a highly valued trait to me – I don’t require fancy goings on and all nightclub hopping. I don’t need the scene and I’m not sure I’ve ever really fit into it. The first thing I loved about my boyfriend was that he loved dive bars and wearing the same pants every day. Simple. And finally, here I had met more kindred spirits. It wasn’t long before I started spending almost every day with Travis and Anna. Mikey (for difference’s sake) wasn’t around as much since he lives pretty far out in the valley plus he had other jobs and worked full time on his music. Travis and Anna not so busy. I wasn’t so busy either. All I wanted to do was to lounge on the dark red and blue plaid couches in Travis’s apartment, hit the bong and watch some Dave Chappelle. Anna and I made each other laugh and Travis played records and serenaded us while we passed joints. Memories were being made. I fell in love with these people and this new life. It all happened so suddenly.

So I started spending less and less time at home. Mike was in school at UCLA diligently working on his Anthropology degree; he studied every night and still worked full time at a hotel. He just hasn’t been around much. We started fighting a lot. Last fall was rough on us. There were a few big fights. None quite as big as the one we’re in now, but what we lacked in severity we made up for in frequency. He’s been angry at me, angry that I’m not home anymore, angry that I smoke too much weed, angry that I’m out until all hours of the morning, angry that when I get off work at 11pm I don’t want to go to sleep with him, I want to go party with my friends. What’s the difference? Hanging out in my apartment while my boyfriend is asleep is hardly quality time. I may as well be out living the lifestyle I’ve always wanted. I’ve always had a close friend or two, but never a solid group of people. And never a solid group of people that actually wanted to see me every day. Truthfully, I was lonely and this felt like the greatest remedy. Another win for the medicinal properties of marijuana.  

I was angry too. I was angry that he studied all the time and never made time for me. Angry that he never wanted to be social. I understand if he doesn’t want to hang out with some new, random potheads; that’s not his bag and I respect that. But we couldn’t find anything that we wanted to do together. He was unwilling to be the man that I met, the man that loves dive bars and drinking in parking lots. He had moved on from that and at some point left me behind. I was angry that I had to make dinner or he would go hungry, or eat hot dogs from 711. I was angry that his idea of doing the dishes was watching Futurama on my laptop, rinsing off the plates and bowls but leaving me all the pots and silverware. I was angry that he had a night every week that we had dinner at his parent’s home in Culver City, but not a night to spend with just me. Excuse me while I go get my kicks somewhere else.  

This morning, Mike called me while I was making breakfast at Lizbeth’s apartment. We both cried. We both said this whole thing was stupid. I apologized. I groveled. I begged him to let me come home. He begged me to take care of him and treat him like he deserved and I promised I would. I packed up my weekend bag and went straight home. When he got home there was more hugging and kissing and crying. I swore to never see Travis outside of work anymore. I didn’t mention that I went over to his apartment Saturday night. I promised to not talk to him, to cut off all phone, email and facebook contact. I deleted our friendship.

Mike has left for work now; he should be back sometime around 8 o’clock tonight. I just need to break my promise one more time. I have to tell Travis why I can’t see him. I have to tell him that I chose my boyfriend over my friendship with him. I have to tell him that I wish things could be different.

I feel good about my decision to work things out with my boyfriend. I feel honored, flattered, relieved, overwhelmed, and joyful that Mike even wanted me to come home. But now that he’s gone and I’m looking around at all of our things – our life together – our memories – I feel like something is still missing. And it’s more than that big chunk of wall that’s no longer there. I feel like I relinquished the only good friendship I’ve made in 5 years. I feel like I shouldn’t have to choose between my boyfriend and a social life. I feel a little trapped.

I’m out of the doghouse but I’m still a dog.

The Weekend

"Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship."

It’s Sunday morning and I’m still separated from Mike. He took off and spent the weekend with his parents. I’m still at Lizbeth’s sparse apartment: just a couch, a bed and a kitchen table. I think there may be some edamame in the fridge.

Friday night, I called her weeping after the blow out at my apartment. She took me in and told me I could stay as long as I needed. She helped me get settled and then she promptly took off to some nightclub in Echo Park. I understand, she had plans and she was doing me a favor by letting me stay with her. Still, my life is crumbling right before my eyes and I really could use a little support and care and love. She tried to convince me that going out with her would make me feel better – be good for me.  I don’t think she quite understands that part of the reason I’m in trouble is because of my social life. Plus I certainly don’t deserve any rewards. How could I tell Mike later that the first thing I did was go drinking and dancing? I’m not here to celebrate my freedom. I’m here to wallow and punish myself.  Friday night I stayed in and cried. I slept on the floor actually because while I love Lizbeth, I didn’t want to cuddle with her in her twin sized bed and she had already promised the couch to a mutual friend. He apparently is also having some troubles with his living situation and they rolled in together at 4am, drunk and disorderly. They woke me up. I started to really miss my boyfriend. I miss my cozy bed. I miss how he’s quiet and in bed by 11pm, never to stumble in drunk and wake me up. If anyone is doing that in my apartment, it’s me.

I think it’s obvious to say I barely slept. I stopped pretending to sleep when the sun finally came up. I took the longest shower. I think I was attempting to sleep standing up. If I was going to be out of my apartment for a while and sleeping on the floor, I should work on that skill. I don’t know how, but somehow after trying to wash away all my sins, I pulled it together, put on makeup, put my work clothes on and went to go serve tables for brunch. I was glad actually; brunch people don’t judge you for looking puffy – they can’t see you anyway. They don’t take their sunglasses off to talk to you and they’re still drunk for the night before. Or stoned. (Them and me, both.) Being at work can be the saving grace for the emotionally distressed. All I have to do is make sure people get their eggs and coffee; nothing else to think about, nothing else to worry about for at least a few hours. Work is where I go to shut the world out. I was thankful that Travis wasn’t working. He had the Saturday night shift thank God. Just me and the cappuccinos this afternoon. And after work I went back to Lizbeth’s and called my mother, only to get the typical unimaginative response, "I'm sure you and Mike will figure things out." Thanks, Mom.

Lizbeth was at work, and then after she got off around 11pm shot me a text message saying she was going out again. Did I want to come? No. Fuck off. Call me old fashioned but the reason you call a friend for a place to stay, as opposed to going to a motel I suppose, is for some soothing girlfriend TLC. Maybe this was tough love? Maybe she was just being unaware – or selfish. Hard to tell with her. I think I’m starting to understand what it feels like to have someone choose booze over companionship. Maybe this “you’re either with me or you’re left behind” attitude that she’s dumping on me is how Mike feels every day.  This realization was a little much for me. I got baked to quell the tears.

Sometime around midnight, Anna called. She’s a mutual friend of mine and Travis’s and she works at the restaurant too. (More on her later.) She invited me out to Travis’s for the nightly night cap. I didn’t tell her about the fight, I didn’t tell her where I was, I didn’t even hesitate. The next thing I knew I was putting on shoes, grabbing my sack and heading out to the car. Well, I’m not going to wallow forever.

I actually spent the night there. I’m surprised no one asked me why I didn’t have to go home to Mike. Then again, who was going to ask? Travis? I doubt he wanted to risk reminding me to be responsible, because that would mean I would leave. Anna? She was stoned and passed out on the couch hours before I actually fell asleep. Travis and I sat up and talked for a long time. I’m not sure how but we got into a long conversation about our fathers and our families. I felt secure, comfortable, warm. Even though it was the last place on Earth I should've been, I’m glad I went there. It may be the last time I get to spend time with them. I already miss him. I'm starting to understand what I'm going to have to do. Maybe what I miss already is my freedom.

Today I worked brunch and then got cut early. The gang generally gets together around 4 o’clock when brunch is over but I think I’ve overdone it by spending the night there last night. Besides, Lizbeth is finally here and hanging out for a while. I think I can hear her opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and a neighbor is on the way to help us drink it. With any luck, I’ll be passed out from drunkenness by 4 o’clock. I could really use the sleep.

The Email

"No good deed goes unpunished."

5 days ago I got into some serious trouble with my boyfriend after spending too much time with a friend of mine named Travis. I had acted out of the realm of what is acceptable for a girl in a committed relationship.  After sleeping on the couch –or rather crying on the couch all night—and much groveling, Mike forgave me. And in bed, he even let me turn on the electric blanket. The fight was on Sunday and by Wednesday we were back on for date night.

On Thursday morning, I woke up with something weighing heavily on my heart. I needed to get my feelings off my chest. I did what I thought was right, what I thought was the best idea: to put things as clearly as possible to Travis. I sent him an email:

Travis,

I demanded complete honesty and forthrightness from you, so I suppose I have to return the favor. I have been incredibly selfish. My actions have not been good for you, for me or for Mike. Mike especially. My relationship with him is the most important thing in my life, and lately I have been putting that relationship in great jeopardy. I cannot keep pushing boundaries of what is acceptable when he isn't around.
          On Sunday when I got home, he was nearly in tears. He thought that you and I had only hung out for a couple hours and that I was simply late getting home. But. when he found out that we had been together for 12 hours yesterday, he was really heartbroken. And then it just got worse as I told him about our day. He was so upset with me that he left for a little while and took the car, only to find a gift you had given me in the car door.  I have been put in a really awkward position here too, although I should admit that I have done this to myself. And now I find myself having to keep things from him or worse, outright lie, either to protect him or you. It's like poison to my relationship. I have said things clearly to you, but not been clear in my actions. We can't call each other adorable. We can't send flirty facebook messages. I should not have accepted that gift from you. I can't let you put your arm around me. I can't spend entire days with you riding Ferris wheels. I haven't even done that with Mike before. I can't be at your apartment until 4am. I can tell him and I can tell myself that it's friendly, Cheryl is there, Anna and Rich are with us, or whatever. But where is the limit? I can rationalize a lot of things in my life, but I can't deny anymore that my friendship with you is hurting his feelings and crippling my relationship with my boyfriend.
          He's begging me to find a solution to this problem. He has not forbidden me to see you anymore. He has shown remarkable restraint around you, even though he has told me that he's uncomfortable and angry with you. Honestly, he's been more forgiving in this situation than I've ever seen in him before. Any other man in his role would probably have exchanged words with you in the very least, if not done more. But he's not going to put up with this any longer. And I can't go through this with him. I love him too much to hurt him or make him angry or sad. And if he were close to a girl that upset me that much, I would expect him to respect me.
This is not the long term solution, this is just to allow me some time to repair damage done between me and him. But for a while, I can't see you anymore. I enjoy our time together. I had a really fun day with you yesterday. But I think I'm sending you the wrong messages, too. That's not fair to you; it's only holding you back from finding someone that you can really date, someone that reciprocates. I do not have feelings for you other than friendship and I believe I have been taking advantage of you and my boyfriend's patience. I can only apologize for that. Selfishness is a really ugly quality in a person - you deserve better than that.

I care about you. I think you're awesome. I will miss hanging out with you while we take this hiatus. This really is my fault. I should never have let this situation get anywhere close to this far. I'm sure this email and this quick fix seems a little drastic. But, I hope you understand that this is the right thing to do - for everyone involved.

Love,

Angie.

And I thought I did the right thing. As a friend to Travis and a girlfriend to Mike. I thought I was proving my love and commitment to my boyfriend that I cherish.

Until this morning. I called Mike at work to find out if he wanted me to make meatball subs for dinner. I was thrilled to cook this tonight because I knew he’d be so excited. He was silent on the phone with me and awkward. Defensive and curt. I asked him what was going on. And he stuttered a little and made a noise that sounded like the beginning of a sob. He read the email. He logged in to my email account just to check in. After this weekend, he lost his trust for me and succumbed to the temtation of spying. He found the email in my sent folder and it broke his heart. All he read in the letter was, “I call you adorable. I send you flirty facebook messages. I let you put your arm around me.” He told me what he saw and he hung up on me.

Tonight when I got home, he called me a cunt and punched a whole in the wall. He stormed out. He’s going to stay with his parents for a few days. I called a girlfriend to come get me. I couldn’t stay in my apartment. Lizbeth is letting me stay with her for the weekend.

I was telling this boy to get out of my life. I thought I was doing the right thing. But instead I got caught in a lie. I have been promising my boyfriend that I had no idea how Travis felt about me. I told my boyfriend that Travis had never told me that he liked me and that our relationship as far as I knew was completely platonic. Now everything is worse and I’m sleeping on the hardwood floor of a cold studio apartment.

Wake and Bake and Shop

"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."

I woke up 104 b’glock this morning before the sun was even up, rolled a joint and made some tea. Put on the leggings and a big cozy sweater, grabbed the beanie and made sure I had another joint for the road. My girl friend picked me up at 7am to go downtown to the Los Angeles Convention Center.  Why the fuck were you up so early? (You may ask. I know I did, several times.) The only way you’ll ever see me up at 6am is because I’ve stayed up until then, I’m having sex, or… DRUMROLL PLEASE..

The Barney’s Warehouse Sale.

That’s right. That shit is serious. If you’ve never been, let me describe it for you. It’s a giant warehouse full of fantastically marked down couture like $3000 Nina Ricci and Dolce & Gabana dresses, amazing ready-to-wear like Mark Jacobs, Diane Von Furstenburg, and an array of the best shoes in the world like Louboutin , Blahnik, Prada and more. Women start lining up at the ass crack of dawn, grab trash bags and fight each other to the death for the latest Marni teeshirt. So basically it’s heaven on Earth. AND I WAS GOING THERE.

We battle rain and slush puddles and traffic, finally getting to the Convention Center at 7:30am only to find out that the Sale doesn’t even open until 10am. There wasn't anyone there but us. Oops! This was my fault, darling, so I’m so sorry! We made the best of it though, walking in the rain 5 blocks like true New Yorkers, and had a spot of breakfast at a landmark diner The Pantry Café.

“Oh fuck! They have biscuits and gravy here?!” I accidentally yelled loudly enough for the neighboring table to shoot me some nasty looks. I laughed and gleefully ordered the $4.35 gravy covered breakfast dish. Uhh.. Yum.

Later at the sale, I thought I was going to lose my mind.  Everywhere I looked there were sequins and feathers and silk! I just ran through the racks touching everything and dancing. And still nobody was there! I don’t know if it was the rain or the fact that the Sale has been open for a week, or maybe it’s because it changed location. For the first hour, it was just me and my friend! I knew that if I kept wishing on a star, someday that shit would come through. Did I mention that I smoked that other joint on the way back from the diner?

After that I had a rehearsal for acting class and then spent the evening watching So You Think You Can Dance reruns and eating cookies.

I think this might be the best day ever. And it’s weird… today I fully recognized the thought that I could be single. I could be alone and be okay. I know the things that make me happ. I don't need a boyfriend; I have weed and shopping. 


For more pictures from my Barney's adventure, check out my facebook page; for cookie eating footage, check out my youtube channel. :)

Happy Valentine's Day

  "I can resist everything except temptation"

I have a work friend. A real friend. A good friend. How do I describe this person in my life? My boyfriend, Mike, hates him. I adore him. He’s fun, I make him laugh, he likes to dance, he has no bedtime. He’s kind of the exact opposite of my boyfriend – including his stature. And even though I love the attention, he’s an unlikely candidate for a threat to my relationship. I can’t see myself ever dating him; besides that, I’m maintaining the idea that I’m in love with my boyfriend for now. His name is Travis. He has professed his love for me – dramatic, eh? – several times. To me, to mutual friends, to our managers at work, to the ever present, all important Facebook.  I ignore it. And by ignore it, I mean that I dress a little sluttier at work, hang out with him every day and completely encourage flirting. And every day I know that what I’m doing is wrong. You know what drowns out guilt? Alcohol and weed.

Travis and I spent a day together a few afternoons ago. I picked him up in my brand new car. He hadn’t seen it yet and I was so excited to show it off. He had a couple of errands to run; in truth, I had no idea this day was going to turn out the way it did. It wasn’t planned.  But I should’ve realized at some point what I was getting into and saved myself.  As soon as Travis gets into the car, three things happen. First he gives me a gift – incense and flowers, for Valentine’s Day, of course. Second, he mentions that he has to meet up with his dad to get some money for school. I haven’t met his father yet. I have no interest in meeting his father. What was Mike going to say about this? I instantly decided that Mike was going to say absolutely nothing about it because he was never going to find out. Which brings me to number three, we light a joint. Don't forget what kills guilt. With Travis in my car and no other options at the moment, I take him to meet his father. The three of us have coffee together in the middle of a weekday afternoon. What am I doing? I knew I shouldn’t be there; but I also knew I was having a good time. And all I wanted in the world that day was to spend some time lying in the sun and playing in the surf with my close friend. If I had to meet his parents first, then I guess that’s what we were doing. But, this small digression ended up taking a lot longer than expected. By then it was late in the day. We had a mutual friend already at the beach. But by the time we got there, she had given up on the heat and sun, trying to protect her delicate fair skin and freckles. So the three of us hit a bar and had an early dinner on the pier. Drunkenly we decided to get on the Ferris Wheel after that. There were giggles, picture taking, memories made. I forgot to check in with my boyfriend. I was certain he had to work until about 7pm that day. I’d surely beat him home. Travis and I took Cheryl home. We smoked a bowl with her and her roommate. There was wine, there was more giggling, and there was an arm around my shoulder. Shit. It was suddenly after 7pm. Mike would be home any minute if he weren’t already.  I rush Travis home, completely forget about the Valentine’s gift he had given me and run inside my apartment.

Mike is in the kitchen, there is no music on, no television, no laptop propped up on the kitchen counter playing the latest episode of 30 Rock while he does chores. Silence in the house except for running water. Too late. I was busted. Mike had actually gotten off work early to come home and see me. He had midterms all that week and he wanted to squeeze in some precious hours of quality time before he had to buckle down. He wanted to take me to dinner. I had already eaten and on top of that was a little tipsy.  I laid it all out on the table – all of it except for the flirtation and the coffee date with his father and the Ferris Wheel – and when he found out who I had spent the whole day with, he was livid. That time he had wanted to spend with me, celebrating our relationship, squeezing in an early V-Day romantic evening, turned into time spent fighting and crying and yelling and him driving off furiously. He didn’t make it far. He stopped halfway down the street, threw the car in reverse and stormed back in the door to throw Travis’ gift in my face.

So Happy Valentine’s Day, all you lovers out there. I hope you’re fairing better than me.  If you have any advice on how to fix this, by all means, let me know. I’m clearly making terrible decisions on my own and could really use some guidance.