Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, shame on me.
Fool me a THIRD mother fuckin time…well…
Shame just obviously isn’t serving its rightful purpose at this point.
Fuck man…I already terminated with my therapist a WEEK AGO.
Why, you ask?
Well because my super self-righteous ass was convinced that I finally had my SHIT TOGETHER and was confident that I could COMPLETELY manage on my own.
And here I am…ONCE AGAIN…with my head in my hands attempting to convince myself that I can just be “FRIENDS” with Drummer.
*commence backlash and “I Told You So”s*
After playing “Bondage For Beginners” last weekend, we spent the entire next day in a whirlwind of cliche romantic rendezvous:
- Sunday Brunch Dim Sum at Empress Pavilion in Chinatown with a tight inner circle of fabulously elite gay men
They were Drummer’s friends and I was invited back for a second Sunday Brunch
I contemplated if I would ever see them again considering how quick Drummer always is to quit on me.
We tried to fuck in a glass elevator…it didn’t work.
- Walking hand-in-hand down Colorado St. in Pasadena while stopping to make out in the middle of the sidewalk.
One lady told us we were the cutest couple she’d seen all day…I told her we were just fucking.
We attempted to fuck in a coffee shop…the table was way too high for his penis to reach my vagina…we aborted said attempt.
- A romantic fuckin’ stroll around Langham Huntington Hotel gardens
- Cruising up Mulholland Drive to overlook the entire city from up in the Hollywood Hills
- Dinner at Mi Piace BACK in Pasadena
We ordered the chocolate souffle…I very well may have chocolate souffled my pants here from how FUCKING AMAZING it was.
This is where Drummer and I began the long, strenuous four hour talk about how I wanna be with him, about how we CLEARLY aren’t friends, and how he can’t possibly be in a relationship right now.
GO AHEAD AND TRY TO TELL ME THAT SHIT ISN’T FUCKIN ROMANTIC YO!!!
Minus the dinner-prompted discussion about how we apparently shouldn’t be together.
Of course this talk did not go over so easily:
I demanded I deserved more than to just be his Friday-night fuck hole.
I insisted we couldn’t be friends.
I balled my eyes out for three hours, the blubbering kind where you snot all over yourself and are forced to use the bottom of your shirt to sop it all up because you’ve run out of toilet paper, tissues, AND paper towels.
(Who am I kidding…I use my shirt even when I HAVE all that shit stocked.)
I cried the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the kind that leaves your nose raw after from all the shit you rub on it to stop the mucous from cascading effortlessly all over your lips and chin, the kind that leaves your eyes looking like you could very well be competing in a contest entitled “Who Looks Most Like a Baby Squirrel”
The kind that leaves you vulnerable, embarrassed, exposed, and albeit…
And he did the same.
So here I am now on a Thursday night in the car with my sister parked outside of his place.
You bet your ass I have work tomorrow morning.
My sister’s in town for the week from New Jersey.
Yesterday, he drove to Hollywood to spend the day with my sister while I was at work.
He never met her before but thought he didn’t want her to be all alone cooped up in my apartment by herself.
This is the girl he willingly spent his day off with as a courtesy to her and me:
Tonight, we’re going to Central in Santa Monica where his cousin’s Electro/House/Dub-step group is playing.
FUCKIN WEEKDAY RAGEFEST WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
My Sister: Drummer is the coolest EVERRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! You guys can’t really be friends…
Me: Shut the fuck up! We’ll be fine…I don’t wanna be with him anyway (LIES!) he doesn’t have his shit together (NEITHER DO YOU!) and I deserve better (OK I’ll give you that)
My Sister: Yeah…I guess *never wanting to disagree with me because she’s scared to* So…how are we gonna get home?
Me: I can drive…do NOT let us stay here OK?!!!
My Sister: *rolling her eyes* Oh God…you guys are gonna make hanky panky…
Me: *ultra defensive* Not true! My vagina doesn’t even get wet when I’m drunk!
My Sister: *opening my car door in disgust* UGH! I fucking…HATE YOU.
Me: What…? It’s true.
Trust me man I got this shit planned out PERFECTLY.
This is actually why I like to keep my drinking to a minimum.
Walking into his place, I see Drummer already has three shot glasses out and filled to the brim with Kettle One.
I nonchalantly walk up to give him a hearty, unphased, I-Swear-I’m-Not-In-Love-With-Your-Triflin-Ass hug.
“HEY!!!!!!!!!!!!” we both exclaim to each other as we embrace.
Mmm…God he smells so good…even better than the first time I met him.
We don’t look at each other.
In fact, I refuse to look at him.
Instead I down all three shots as fast as possible.
The drunker I am, the better able I can handle this shit.
It’s pure science.
My sister looks at me questioningly.
Drummer pours three more shots and the three of us cheers as we fist pump to David Guetta on Spotify.
My sister reluctantly takes hers…she can be quite the pussy when it comes to drinking.
After taking THREE MORE SHOTS for myself (my limit is usually ONE), we finally head out.
Drummer lives on 22nd off Wilshire.
We’re WALKING in our STILETTOS…to 14th.
Well at least I can’t feel my feet anymore.
The three of us walk down Wilshire while blasting music from Drummer’s iPhone.
I feel like I’m in college again all drunk and delirious with my sister.
I watch Drummer joke and fist pump with my sister.
Internally sulking, I wonder how the fuck this night is gonna go:
We’re gonna be around all his friends, him and I are not together, but I desperately wish we were.
To drive the stake even deeper in this moment, my sister carelessly exclaims:
You guys should get married!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fuck my life…
This is gonna be a long night.