The drama of my life never ceases to amaze me.
I’m not sure how or why, but God enjoys playing with me.
So, I admit, I made a mistake a few months ago.
A huge, huge, gigantor mistake.
Celibacy sucks and it drives you to crazy things.
No, literally, crazy things.
I called my nutso ex.
The one who had amazing bedroom skills.
But also hacked into all AR cellular companies to get my new phone number when I cancelled my cell service because he would NOT. STOP. CALLING.
But I was drunk . . . and he’s SO good in bed.
If you remember correctly, he told me after a few hours of amazing hotel sex that he was engaged.
But was glad I had called.
Because he couldn’t stop thinking about me.
And we were supposed to be together.
And now he could call off the engagement.
Remember how I just grabbed my clothes, called him stupid, told him to marry her and ran.
Ummm . . .. Yeah.
Guess who showed up at my house tonight.
Three days before his wedding.
Hello! People! Are you reading this?!?!?!
He needed to talk.
Said he was conflicted.
Didn’t know what to do.
He loves her, but he can’t stop thinking about me.
Which is why, when she offered him anything he wanted for his birthday a few months ago, he called me to see if I would participate in a three-way with him and the girlfriend/fiancee.
DOES THIS SHIT HAPPEN TO OTHER PEOPLE??
I thought Robin and Stephen were going to fall out of their chairs when I told them that little bit over dinner one night.
I digressed again.
Little stressed here.
He spent almost 3 hours here.
Sitting on my couch.
Asking me what to do with his life.
Asking me for re-assurance that he was making the right decision.
Asking me to tell him that there’s never a chance I will want him back.
Well, the massive amounts of Kleenex I had to keep bringing you . . . that’s a visual that won’t quickly go away and I can pretty much ensure it’s added to the LONG list of reasons I will never want you back in my life.
Well, that and the fact that you hacked cellular companies to find my number.
Oh, and that cracked out fit you threw in the casino in Tunica when you lost $800 (when I TOLD you to stop gambling and NOT go to the ATM) but expected me and Jaime and Patrick to leave . .. when I was up $2300 and Jaime and Patrick were up at least $400 and I got that cutie manager to comp us rooms.
And let’s not forget how you showed up at Zach and Anita’s in tears last February when you saw the article in the AR Democrat Gazette about how I was almost killed in a car wreck and instead of knocking on the door, saying "Hi, how ya doin?" you just threw open the door like you owned the joint, collapsed at my feet, pulled me to you so tightly I couldn’t breathe and screamed "I almost lost you!!!!!!!" . . . in front of the man I was living with. And my friends.
Oh, and that time in Memphis, on Beale, at Rum Boogie Café when you lost your mind and walked out of the place because I was hugging the owner . . . ummm, we’ve known each other for years, it wasn’t anything sexual, you jealous freak, and then when we found you again you stuck to me like glue in every bar/club we went to. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom. You went with me!
Why couldn’t I say any of that to you?
Because I couldn’t hurt you when you were already hurting so badly.
So, instead, all I kept doing was reminding you of how much you love your fiancee.
How you mesh.
How she does things for you that I never could or would.
How she fits into your world, and I never did.
And I pray you are happy.
And that you don’t do anything stupid Saturday.
She loves you, you love her and you should be together.
Marry her. Please marry her.
Funnily enough, I call Robin the minute he leaves and she is completely unsurprised by all of this.
It doesn’t even phase her.
Proof that she’s been my friend for too long.
She took it all in stride.
She was like "Eh, whatever, he’s a freak."
That says something, doesn’t it?
When the people in your life are no longer shocked by stories like this.
I’m going to have "Crisis Magnet" tatooed on my forehead tomorrow.
That way if you guys see me in public, you’ll know to steer clear.
FEMA should declare me a natural disaster area.