You know that whole thing in Californication where strange and beautiful women throw themselves at Hank Moody every time he leave his house to buy milk or cigarettes? Well that kinda happened to me last Sunday.
I was out having drinks with a buddy on the other side of town, and he wanted to do drugs. The only problem was that his dealer wasn’t answering his phone, and I was being less than cooperative because I’d already had a long, hard weekend. Toward the end of the night, though, I needed a ride home, so I told him I could get some if we headed back to my hood.
We headed for a dive bar where I knew dealers hang out, and made it there just in time for last call. I left him at the bar with money for drinks and went looking for a familiar face.
Crossing the dance floor, the hottest girl in the place pulled me aside to say hi. We chatted for a minute, but I had things to do, so I told her I’d be at the bar for last call if she wanted to join me. Continue reading →
I remember a few years ago when my roommate was dating a Suicide Girl (that I introduced him to) and he found a picture of her on 4chan. Now, he knew what he was getting into when he started dating her. He knew that the internet was full of naked pictures of his girlfriend, and he’d even gone along with her on a few shoots. But the actual experience of stumbling across one on 4chan of all places gave the situation a gravitas that it had hitherto lacked.
It had suddenly sank in: he was dating someone who was exposed to the world for anyone to gawk over or comment on. Continue reading →
The kind of love that some people inspire in you is a lot like doing cheap cocaine that’s been cut with too much speed. It’s get’s you high, but not quite the way you wanted, and you end up doing all kinds of things that leave you needing another fix to escape from how horrible and depressed you feel about about yourself the next day.
And if you’re not careful, and don’t learn to keep your distance, you end up hooked. You get addicted. That’s when you risk going over the edge, and even if you’re strong and lucky enough to make it back out again, you’re never quite the same. You don’t see the magic anymore. There’s no more mystery to any of it. By then, you’ve seen the darker side of the truth and yourself, and you know what ugly and terrible things can be lurking in the shadows of someone’s soul.
And what you learn is that sometimes, when you can’t get the good stuff, it’s better to go without…
The problem with the marrying type is that they’re no fun. They’re sweet and they’re kind and they’re loyal, but they get boring.
That’s what it means to take a wife. It means to get lonely and give up and settle for someone who could never break your heart.
The thing is that if you wait too long to take one, all the good ones are gone, and all you’re left with are the fun ones. You know, the inspiring ones who are too proud to ever ask for help, and will break your heart if you give it to them. They are beautiful and they are free, and it is a tragedy…
I went on a blind date with yoga teaching dating blogger last Friday. The Girl and I had agreed to not go out on dates with anyone else, but we were smashed when we’d had that conversation, and she’s had her sketchy moments since then, so I wasn’t sure whether the arrangement still stood.
Besides, my friend had been bugging me to go on a date with this Blogger friend of her’s since before I even met The Girl, and the only reason I didn’t was because she had the same name as The Ex, and uttering those syllables in the context of courtship wasn’t something I ever really wanted to do again.
But with all the sketchiness surrounding The Girl, I figured I mind as well keep exploring what other options were out there, so I finally gave in to the pressure and told my friend I was willing to give it a shot. She sent me The Blogger’s number, and I texted her and set up a happy hour date on Friday; that way, if things were awkward or weren’t going well, I’d have an out and could always say that I had plans later that night. Continue reading →
I met The Bartender on a cold February night at a burlesque show that The Roommate was producing. She used to be The Roommate’s roommate and we were introduced over whisky shots. I had a wingman in tow, and we ended up meeting up with her and a friend down the street at another bar after the show. From there we went to another bar, and things got about as messy as you’d expect on the third stop on an all night pub crawl.
Credit: antoine p
She’d been sober for six months and seemed to be making up for lost time. I’d been heartbroken for about nine and was trying to make up for lost dignity. Continue reading →
I took a stroll down Memory Lane the other night. It wasn’t intentional. I went out to get cigarettes and a cup of coffee, but it was after midnight and everything nearby was closed, so ended up at this gas station that was just a couple blocks from the first apartment I lived in with The Ex.
She was living there when we started seeing each other, and I ended up moving in with her after a while. It was a run down, one bedroom in a student ghetto that had been carved out of the bottom level of an old grey stone, and we probably had our happiest times there. It was before we found a bigger place together, before things got real, and before the honeymoon phase ended.
Standing there, outside on the street, drinking a coffee and smoking a cigarette, there were so many things I’d forgotten over the years: the flimsy front door that always let in a draft, our first fight, that time we had to move her bed into the living room because the bedroom flooded and we spent several consecutive nights fucking in front of the TV while the 2008 Summer Games in Beijing played out.