I am listening to some depressing, weepy ass songs right now. It is sunny. I have fun plans tonight. I look cute. But Edie Brickell won't leave me alone. I am like, "Step off bitch, it is time for me to be happy!" and she is all like "Uh uh chica, I will continue to haunt your ass until you get married. So get over it."
Nothing much has happened this week, so let me regress and tell you a delicious story from my past. I actually forgot about this for awhile, but today as I was readying myself for work, I spied my old journals sitting in my bookshelf. I pulled one out and flipped through it. See, I have kept a notebook from the age of 14 until last October. That is when I started really writing on D-Land, so the journal keeping fell by the wayside. It is pretty damn sweet. I have a huge stack of ringed notebooks I have saved throughout the years. You could ask me what I was doing the 1st Saturday of July when I was 16 and I could tell you. People have gotten in timeline disputes with me and I have whipped out my trusty journal and looked up a date and screamed, "HA! Choke on it, bitch!"
I came across a particularly painful part of my 20th year on this planet. I was a freshman in college. For that year and the two preceding it, I was working at a Greek restaurant as a hostess, getting paid $6 an hour, working a 11pm-7am shift. One of the part-owners of the restaurant was a HOT BOX. A GOD. Gorgeous physique. Full, pouty lips. Huge blue eyes. A perfect nose. A had a mad crush on him. Michael. He was delicious. When I met him, I was 18. He was 28. I was legal. He wasn't tempted. He was engaged to the owner of the restaurant's sister, who was 3 years older than me, perfect and beautiful. We slowly became friends. After high school, I went from being 120 lbs my senior year to 175 lbs. my freshman year. It was all that damn free fetticini alfredo!
I was really depressed and having a hard time with my boyfriend, who wanted to keep me fat in order to keep other men away and pay homage to the new rack I had acquired from my massive weight gain. I expressed to Michael how unhappy I was, so for Christmas, my dad got me a gym membership and Michael offered to be my personal trainer. We worked out 4 days a week and rapidly became close. My crush grew to me being deeply enamored with him. The weight started coming off and my self-esteem grew. He would tell me how beautiful and wonderful I was. He made a few jokes along the lines of "If I'd only met you first." He didn't know what comments like that did to me. He was all I could think about. My stomach would flip anytime he came into a room. I would write Mrs. Bethany C***** all over the notes I would take in class. He became the focus of my life.
The light flirtation then became serious. He started sneaking me into a club once a week so I could hang out with some of the waitresses and him. I bought a pager and he started paging me after he dropped off his fiancee so we could talk for a few hours each night. He would page me with the code #187, which means call me right away. Innuendoes were dropped. He made me blush on more than one occasion. 3 friends and I got Alanis Morrisette tickets and Michael, being a huge fan, offered to get us a limo if he could come. I could not be more excited until he dropped the bomb that his fiancee was going to be coming as well. FUCK! I was kinda sad, but still pretty stoked to be around him for a whole night away from work.
We headed up to Chicago in the limo, and when everyone but Michael and I got out to get Wendy's, he looked at me and said "Are we going to make out, or what?" I immediately jumped on his lap and started kissing him with more intensity then I ever thought possible. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my friends and her come back to the limo, so I jumped off his lap and started messing with the radio. My heart was about to leap out of my chest and I couldn't keep a silly grin off my face the entire night.
We got to the concert and we would keep sneaking looks at each other. During the song "Ironic" I was standing in front of him, and when the lyric "meeting the man of your dreams and then meeting his beautiful wife" was sung, I turned around and stared at him. He turned 6 shades of red until I finally looked away. After the concert, the limo dropped us at the restaurant. He offered to drive me home, so I sat in the back and his fiancee sat in the front. I felt so guilty since she was so sweet to me all the time, but I "loved" Michael so much, that I really didn't care who I hurt at the time. After he dropped her off, he paged me right away and we basically had phone sex. He contemplated coming over to pick me up, but I had school the next day, and I was really scared about were it would go if he did.
The next day, we went to work out around 7pm. We avoided the topic of what happened the night before, but the air between us was charged with sexual tension. He waited for me to get out of the locker room, which he never did, and I walked with him to his car. He asked if I wanted to sit in his car and listen to music, a thinly veiled way of asking me to make out some more. And I was more than willing. It got pretty intense. My top came down, the gear shift was poking me in the ass... and for some reason I looked over while sucking on his neck and realized my father's car was parked next to him. He had deeply tinted windows, but it still really freaked me out, so I exited the car quickly and made my way home.
My friend Julie also worked at the restaurant and knew what was happening between Michael and me. She called that night to tell me he has come into the restaurant that night and she had noticed lipstick on his collar. She pointed it out to him and he freaked and ran to the bathroom. His fiancee was in the back and didn't witness the exchange, but she came back out as his was making an excuse that he had been drinking juice and some must have gotten on his collar. Julie knew it was bullshit... and his fiancee never wore make-up. She knew that shade of lipstick. So basically she told me to knock it off because things were going to get really fucked up if I let this go on.
I agreed. But I was almost addicted to him at this point. My only saving grace was that I was leaving for school in a few weeks. He called me a day later to say we needed to stop what we had started, and it hurt, but I knew it was for my own good.
He told me how much he would miss me. I returned the sentiment, Thanks to him, I was back down to 130 and looking great. A week after I got to school, I met someone who I fell deeply in love with and all thoughts of Michael were erased from my mind.
One morning at 4am, my pager started going off every five minutes, but I didn't want to get out of bed with my new boyfriend. When we finally woke up around 12, I checked my pager and it read #187. A little weirded out, I called the restaurant and asked for Michael. They said "No he is not here. He is getting married right now." I hung up in a daze. I had totally forgotten it was his wedding day! I remember thinking how depressed and angry I was going to be on that day, but I had forgotten completely all about it. He paged me at 4am the day before he got married! How fucked up is that? It was even more fucked up how obsessed with him I was for years and how I had replaced him in my heart so easily.
I have seen him a few times since all this happened. They opened a new restaurant that I visited him once or twice, but it wasn't the same. I learned a few months later that his wife walked in on him fucking some waitress from the new restaurant. That made me feel horrible and better all at the same time. Horrible because I didn't feel special to him anymore, but better because I could leave him behind for good.
Anyway, I have never really told anyone this story. When I came across it this morning, I smiled. I wondered where he is right now. If he is happy. If someone has put a cap in his ass yet. He made me otherwise dull life pretty exciting that year. So thanks, Mike. Hope he you avoided the Clap!