Dumped.
A few weeks back I had written about how a friend of mine had stopped being a friend. She stopped being anything really. She apologized. Swore she’d make it up to me. I’d heard this story countless times before, but I’m forgiving so I swore this would be the last time.
I invited her to Baltimore with me. Her chance to redeem herself for her last few months of being a shitty friend. “Just like old times” she said. Saturday came. I called all morning. I sent her text messages and left her voice mails. Nothing. No excuse. No text message. No e-mail. Perhaps her phone died. Perhaps she was dead.
She’s the kind of friend that amuses me. The one that makes you laugh because she is loud. Not always laughing with her, but laughing at how outrageous she can be. We always had a good time together. Laughing gossiping. She’d always want to get together. Now I have come to realize it was because she was bored. Not because she liked me or cared about me, but because she was bored with her own life.
She’s the girl with the phone conversations where you cannot get a word in, where you have to fight to finish a sentence. A race. Exhaustion. It’s easier to send her e-mails because perhaps she can see your words since she seems to lack the ability to listen to them. She was drama. Always. And every person in ear shot would complain about her. But I liked her. I learned to love her. I stood up for her. Always.
The past few months she’d make plans with me then claim she “forgot”. Not once. Not twice. Twelve. I counted. How can you forget you made plans with someone twelve times? It wasn’t because she hated me, or she was jealous, or something better came up. It was convenience. I was only her friend when it was convenient for her. Like easy mac or delivery.
After bailing on me for the Baltimore trip she called. She acted like nothing was wrong. “I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear.” I’d heard this line before, but I forgave her anyway. One last time I said. One last time. Something I began relating with her name.
A few weeks back I invited her to watch a basketball game with me. “That’s boring” she said. I shrugged it off. Perhaps she just didn’t like basketball. Then one night she was orchestrating plans to watch the basketball game, like she cared, like she was a fan all along. I ignored it. I suppose it was to fill up her time. To ignore a silence in her life, but perhaps she should sit with that silence and learn to love it and love the people that actually care about her.
A few weeks ago I invited her to go to the Coldplay concert with me. She was the first person I called. First person I invited. She claimed she disliked them. “I’d rather kill myself than go to a Coldplay show”. And just like the basketball, I believed she just didn’t like them. Then tonight I discovered she’s at the show. Twittering about how great it was.
That was it. The icing on the cake. It wasn’t just this time. This one insignificant event; it’s the culmination of all of them. All of her small catastrophes. I didn’t even wait to hear an apology. I apologized to myself. For wasting my time. For making room for someone who could never make room for me. For making time for someone who didn’t enrich my life. A nerve has been hit. This makes me angry and sad.
Anything she says are just words. I cannot believe them. So I guess it’s time to let this one go. I’m not dumping her friendship. She dumped mine. A long time ago. I’ve learned who my real friends are. The ones that make time for me. The ones that want to be with me, not because they are bored with their own life, but because they want me to be a part of their life. The ones that don’t come with excuses and explanations. The ones that stick it out and suck it up. And it’s you that I am so blessed to have in my life.
Happy Memorial Day!
I have nothing memorable to report.
Here are some things that have been memorable for me today:
1.)Robert Deniro used to be young. Who knew?
2.) French fries and ice cream are quite possibly the most perfect pair.
3.) Spray tan + white sheets= not such a slick idea. Please take note.
4.) The Denver Nuggets better win tonight or I will be a sad girl.
5.) Most girls that claim to look like Angelina Jolie look nothing like Angelina Jolie. In fact, they are rather repulsive.
I hope that entertained you. Go back outside.
Torta al Cioccolato dolce amaro e gelato al porto
He stares at me when I’m not looking. He makes me smile. He makes me laugh. He gives me the first bite and the last pour. He toasts ‘to soulmates’ because he probably is. And in the candlelight and under the stars you know he is absolutely perfect. Perhaps even better than dessert.
The One You Just Can’t Explain…
Once upon a time I was adored and loved for exactly who I was. I didn’t know what a gift that was until now. Years later. The older, but wiser girl can look back and say she had it good.
I met him at Loie. I hadn’t seen him in a year. The boy with those clouds in his eyes. He looked the same as I remember. He was smoking a cigarette outside when I got there.
He hugged me in a Ray LaMontagne velvety kind of way. The kind of way that brings you back to something before. You can’t exactly put your finger on it, but the aroma of nostalgia rustles something inside you. Better than any snow cone.
“You know you’re not like everyone else. You’re so different. You’re like this glamorous rich girl who just walks to her own beat. There is so much more to you than what meets the eye. I have never met anyone like you. ”
Don’t be the idiot who didn’t realize what she had until it was gone. Don’t let your wants get in the way of what you have. Want is great. It’s necessary to keep us moving, but don’t let your want take a seat at the dinner table. In the end, you’ll end up looking back for more of those moments. The ones you just can’t explain. You know the ones.
Now bitch slap yourself back into reality and remember that where you are is probably where you should be. And those times from your past you think so fondly of should be remembered as such. So toast to them. You’ll feel better. And take whatever it is you have right now and hold on. Tightly.
Bridges Are For Burning
I stopped talking to the Latina for a while. I was pissed that she wasn’t around when I needed her. That she always seemed to ignore my calls when I’d want to go out. I was sick of always being placed on her shelf –only to be taken out when no one else was around. She was a really shitty friend to me. I was tired of trying.
She called me crying. I wasn’t ready to be her friend again, but I had to tell her how I felt. How I felt like she didn’t care and I felt left out. Part of me wanted to hang up the phone on her. I thought to myself Oh yeah? Well, where the fuck were you when I needed you? But instead I listened. I acted as a shoulder because I knew she needed me.
“If I sat around and worried about what people said about me, I’d never leave the house. All you can do is smile and wave. I’d much rather punch haters in the face, but hatred doesn’t solve anything. Love the weak people that prey on you. They clearly are the ones that need it.”
I couldn’t believe I was telling her this. I was giving her the advice that I probably needed too. I’ve burned bridges and had to deal with the bullshit too. I’ve become so hardened from what people say about me that I don’t even blink when someone calls me a whore to my face. I can’t make people like me. They instantly hear the word ‘stripper’, and I am that girl, in that category. They write me off and don’t take the time to get to know the really sweet smart girl that I am.
If I was as big of a slut as everyone thinks I am, I would be getting laid on a regular basis and my vagina would be as wide as the Ben Franklin Bridge.
Chin up Latina. xo
Allergies
I had a bunch of e-mails asking for a new post.
Um. Ok.
I had a lovely weekend. I would elaborate on it, but I don’t feel up to it as my allergies are slowly asphyxiating me. And with my last few breaths I have chosen to write these words.
I went out Saturday night with the Latina and we went to some outdoor deck party at The Drake. I was there for not much more than an hour when I had to leave due to my inability to tolerate irritating people. I don’t have much tolerance for girls to begin with, hence why most of my friends are male, but annoying girls talking about my dress and my handbag makes me want to slug someone. I also spotted the amazingly amazing Philly celebutard and knew I was really in the wrong place.
Last night I went to Marmont where JP leaped at the opportunity to imitate me at work. She loves explaining my job to people. She mimics the way I move like a mangled action figure that Puffy the Pomeranian spent the evening chewing on with vigor. I believe she can mock my dance skills perfectly, as I lack those skills and any interest in performing well on the job.
I am pretty sure if there was an award for the worst stripper of all time I would win. I probably give the worst lap dances, as seen in the photo, a tip from a customer after I gave him a dance. I also have no qualms with slapping you in the face if you ask for any sexual favor. I’d much rather sit back and partake in the debauchery than actually work. But sometimes this plays to my advantage.
I’m off to work now in a coma of allergy medicine. I hope the drugs kick in and it makes me feel better. I have a sneaking suspicion a new pair of running shoes and a new Louis bag would probably work a little better, but beggers can’t be choosers. Or um. Yeah…
Once, I get better I promise a good story will come.
Hit
Sometimes someone comes into your life when you least expect it. They come into your life and knock the wind out of you like getting hit too hard by a dodge ball in gym class. You weren’t expecting it, it happened, and now you’re fucked. You don’t know what to do, so you stand there with your hands out, waiting for what comes next.
So what do you do? Do you sit down and take your beating and wait to see what comes of this game? Or do you pretend you never got hit by that ball and keep playing?
I’ve been hit and I’m not certain of my next move…
May the 4th…be with you…
Ok, so its actually the 5th now that I am writing anything…
I did a last minute weekend vacation….now I am back!
Here are some things I have discovered during my weekend adventures:
1) I wasn’t actually an accident as I so long believed. My mother did this to my father on purpose.
2) It’s all fun and games to cheer for the fountain at the Bellagio, but your neighbors will look at you funny when you stand outside and cheer for your lawn sprinklers.
3) My friend’s that have children let me pass out on their couch sometimes so I don’t have to drive back to the ‘burbs drunk. They let their children draw on me. The dinos are getting pretty good, but the penis still needs work…
4) If you don’t shower for a day or two you may smell a little bit like the safety bar on a roller coaster.
5) Writing is a lonely endeavor, but I don’t really care for your company anyway.
6) The 2008-2009 Denver Nuggets are the best franchise in all of NBA history.
7) I saw a girl with a Mark Ryden tattoo and realized I may not be the only fan of surreal art.
I am slightly convinced look like Goo from “Gumby and Friends”.
9) Girls always compliment my shoes when they are drunk. Never when they are sober. Why is this?
10) I missed seeing Adele when she was in town. This makes me sad. Rumor has it she performs ‘Respect’ live and it is incredible.
Origami.
By 9 o’clock I was drunk. Well, I am pretty sure it was more of a buzz than an actually disarray of drunkenness. 2 of my regulars had come in and booked up all of my time since my arrival at 5pm. I spent a half an hour in the champagne room with regular #1. When our time was up he reached into his pockets and to both of our dismays, nothing. Zero. Cero. Nada. Nil.
Now normally this would piss me off in several different languages, but I knew he was good for it and he’d bring me cash tomorrow. So I shrugged and siphoned the rest of my bubbled brew down my throat before returning to the floor.
The club was empty, but I decided to sit next to some young ‘fella and let him buy me a drank drink. I managed to slurp down the concoction in record time while I pretended to listen to him babble about his Ph.D. work in finance. (yawn).
“Ya wanna get a dance?” I asked in a monotone voice usually reserved for school.
“Nah, but let me make you a present.” He replied.
A present? Make me a present? Unless this present is some sort of monetary gift you are going to dazzle me with from your wallet I am not interested.
“Oh goody.” I tried to say as serious as possible, but my sarcastic wit just cannot be masked.
He started folding a cocktail napkin with an amused smirk on his face. I scanned the club with my eyes without turning my head. I attribute this skill to my years as a lifeguard.
“Voila!” He sang out and presented me with an origami bird.
Origami. Really? A fucking origami bird?
“Oh, I love it.” I sighed. Then I got up and walked up the neck breaking stairway to the dressing room.
I saw E parked in the corner, not the drug, but my friend. She is the size of a teacup Yorkie and I sometimes have to control myself as to not pick her up and swing her around like a toddler, or a midget. I sauntered over and sat next to her. She was playing brick breaker on her blackberry. We talked about how we both are actually legally blind and literature.
Just as I was talking about how she reminded me of David Sedaris in heels, the house mom summoned me down to the office. Great. I assumed I was in trouble and had to try and rack my brain as to whom I might have screwed out of their money that could have had the balls to complain.
My least favorite manager was sitting at his desk. He spun around and looked me in the eyes. I squinted from the bright fluorescent lighting.
“We’ve heard about your writing.” He bellowed.
Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit…
“Oh, um, yeah?” I said nervously. Motioning my hands in front of me as if I were forming origami.
“Yes, we are quite impressed.” He said.
Oh thank fuck. I put my hands back down and felt at ease.
“Just wanted to give you credit when it is due. We are all rooting you on.”
“Oh thanks.” I grinned.
And just before turning to leave the office I slipped out, “May I leave?”
“After showcase.”
Woohoo! I got to leave early.
My cell phone bill is due today. I wonder if they accept payments in origami.
