Friday, July 21, 2006


He called me this morning.

His voice broken down by time, emotion and fear.
A shell of the man I had committed myself to.

"I'm in Little Rock. Bricky, I'm having surgery and I'm here alone. I'm alone and I'm scared."

The silence between us expanded as I thought of what I should do.
As I pictured him lying there in a sterile room.
As I raised my hand and looked at where his ring once was.
As I lowered my hand to the womb where his child once grew.

"Brittany, I need you."

My voice was cold.
My words slow, quiet and measured.

"I needed you once, too."

I heard him sob as I hit End.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Random Unedited Post About Inappropriateness

Brittany’s forays into the realm of inappropriate males continue.

Though I said the reasons for discarding C were unfathomable, there were some that could be understood.

At a certain point in life, you no longer play the age game.
You don’t ask everyone that asks you on a date "How old are you?"
You just gauge by appearance and other exterior items how age appropriate they are.
Upon first glance, C appeared to be in the mid-30 range.
Perfectly acceptable for my newfound late 20's age group.

My glance was incorrect.
So, as it seems, was his.

When we met, I was not in my usual pony-tail, scrubs, little make-up, work attire.
I was dressed to the nines with make-up and hair to match.
He checked the Early 30's age box when he saw me.

After a few dates and many phone conversations, we discovered the discrepancies.

He is 43.
I, as of last Saturday, am 26.
17 year age difference.

We continued seeing one another, determining that the age difference would work itself out.
Either we would discover it was too much to overcome, thus effectively ending the relationship, or we would learn that the difference didn’t matter.

Neither of us anticipated that our feelings would be at opposite ends of the spectrum.

With a combination of other factors, I determined the age difference unacceptable.
He, apparently, feels otherwise.
Because almost two weeks after telling him we should no longer see one another, I continue to receive late night musical voice-mails.
Many in Tom Petty form.

Though there is the occassional "Don’t Do Me Like That" or "Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around," his favorite seems to be the following verse from "You Got Lucky":

You put a hand on my cheek
And then you turn your eyes away
If you don’t feel complete
If I don’t take you all the way
Then go, yeah, go
But remember

Good love is hard to find
Good love is hard to find
You got lucky, babe
You got lucky, babe
When I found you

I’ve received this voice-mail three times.
The most recent was Friday night, when my friend ‘Casper’ fell off my couch laughing about it.

"Is this the same guy that left Stop Draggin My Heart Around the other day when I was over here?"
"That would be him."
"Britt, what are you doin to these guys, huh?"
"Seriously, I do nothing. I must have a tattoo across my forehead that says Freaks Apply Here."
"But he was NORMAL when I met him."
"Yeah, they all look that way in the beginning."

Casper is pushing for my acceptance of a different suitor.
Though, equally inappropriate.

My brother’s fraternity brother G.

G spent the 4th through the 9th of July at my house.
When I asked him why he was staying with me, he said it was because I had an empty queen bed in the house.
When Casper asked him, he said he was hoping a continued presence in my home would prove to me that he was not too young for me.
Ummm hmmm, not so much.

Saturday, July 8th was my 26th birthday.
Sunday, July 9th was G’s 21st birthday.
Yes, 21st.
Meaning he is now legally able to drink.
Junior in college.
Spoiled little rich boy.
But handsome.
6'4", dark hair, blue-green eyes, washboard abs.

G has been a reoccurring character in my life.
Until he moved back down to his parents for the summer, he was constantly at my house.
He was there to hold me and make me laugh when my heart got broken.
He was there for my near arrest on Memorial Day weekend.
He was there every afternoon for our trips to the pool.
And, until he abruptly quit his job and moved back in with his parents for the summer, he was on my couch or in my guest bed most of those nights.

He is my drinking buddy and a decent enough friend.
But he is not relationship material.
He’s a baby.
He’s younger than my brother.

The brother who separated us at our birthday gathering last weekend.

Apparently, my brother feared his friend would be unable to control himself following a night of drunkenness.

Particularly after the series of tequila shots G and I ingested at midnight: The hour when our two birthdays mingled.

My brother forced G to his own residence in the early morning hours saying: "Your drunk ass is NOT sleeping in my sister’s house tonight. I don’t trust either of you."

I assure you, I can be trusted around inappropriate males.
If I spent almost two months NOT sleeping with C, there’s no way I was going to give in to a 21 year old.
So, I ask you, where are the appropriately aged males?

Applications should be sent to:

Brittany M. Goodluck guessing my last name
5265 Somewhere in my Neighborhood
Conway, AR - look up the zip code


Thursday, July 13, 2006

The Random 7 of C

7 - weeks of courting
3 - "sleepovers"
5 - conversations about sex
0 - occurrences of the act
4 - birthday gifts returned
6 - pink roses in the trash
2 - Tom Petty voicemail messages
1 - more man discarded for unfathomable reasons