A Story Told a Thousand Times

When the convict and I used to work together he would call me
throughout the day and tell me "baby I want to do you in the
bathroom". We never did, he was fired soon after. Not for harassment,
which he could have been if anyone ever read his e-mails or
intercepted our phone calls, but because he stopped showing up for
work and he'd leave early and never finish projects. I guess that
should have been a red flag right there and in many ways it was.
Whatever was left of our relationship died off in the next few months.
I would see him occasionally, usually downtown at someones
ridiculously expensive renovated warehouse home. We rode around in
shiny fast cars and we went out to shady places with smoke-filled back
rooms. I think the last time I saw him was February of last year,
right after Valentine's Day. It might have even been early March.

We got drunk at 6:00pm. I think I slammed half a bottle of hard
liquor. By 8:00pm I had locked myself in the bathroom and cried on the
floor for at least an hour. I made him take me back to sorority land
and I never spoke to him again.

Last year I got wasted and cried a lot, it became a life theme I
think. It didn't matter who I was with or where I was but I always
managed to find a corner and cry in it. Nobody understood why. I don't
even know if he hurt me or if he was why I was crying. I know that I
hurt myself and that I pushed a lot of people away because I was in
such denial about him and us. But I was more upset at the person I had
to become. I spent a lot of time last year in the company of some
unsavory gentlemen who were mostly disrespectful assholes. And I guess
I believed that I didn't deserve any better.

The point? I have had an epiphany and yes it has taken this long. I
don't need to befriend drug dealers or jack asses. I'm so glad we have
cleared that up.

Tonight I am having a homeless themed party at my house. There are
only two rules, you must dress as if you were homeless and you must
drink either a 40 of the cheapest beer you can find or boxed wine. I'm
not sure if homeless people actually drink boxed wine, it does take up
a lot of room but the handle is useful when you need to move fast, so
they obviously should.

I think the only attendees will be girls and it seems that boys never
attend our parties so it is no big deal. Kind of odd really that no
men would want to hang out with twenty single sorority girls. The
exception of course being our creepy neighbors who throw produce at
our house, shine laser pointers into our bedrooms, and climb up the
side of our deck. I let them inside once, it was a big mistake.

I will take pictures tonight and they will be funny.