Ecstasy Days, Moonbeam Nights

I was ten minutes late getting to the coffee shop on Venice to meet Brandon.  Lucky for me, he's consistently fifteen minutes late every time we link up.

BRANDON:  Sorry, Gia.  I lost track of time at the gym and then traffic was crazy on the way here and-

ME:  Brandon, relax. It's ok.  I got you a Cafe Latte non-fat w/ Splenda.

BRANDON:  You know me well.

ME:  Yes I do.

BRANDON:  So how's the new job?

ME:  It's fantastic!  I'm flying to New York in 2 days to do a fitness segment on Good Morning America.

BRANDON:  G! That's fantastic.  Wow!  A few months ago, I thought I was going to have to commit you and now-you're a star.

ME:  I wasn't THAT bad.

BRANDON:  I'm really proud of you.

ME:  How are things with you?  

BRANDON:  Couldn't be better.  My contract with "Generations of Bold Children" got picked up for a year.  I'm officially a soap opera star.

ME:  Suddenly, the world all makes sense.

BRANDON:  Not exactly my dream acting gig, but it's a hell of a lot better than slinging drinks at Birds.

ME:   Plus you get to make out with hot actresses all day long.

BRANDON:  Bonus.

ME:  What's your girlfriend think about all this?

BRANDON:  My lady?  She's cool.  Now I can actually afford a ticket to New York to see her more than once a year.

ME:  I don't know how you two lovebirds do it.  Long distance for 2 years?!  

BRANDON:  It's definitely not easy.

ME:  Why don't you just marry her and BE together.

BRANDON:  She's got her job in New York with the consulting firm making SICK money. There's no way I could ask her to give that up.

ME:  And I don't really picture you singing and skipping across a Broadway stage.

BRANDON: Uh, no.

ME:  So do you notice anything different about me?

BRANDON:  Your hair?

ME:  No.

BRANDON:  Hmmm...there's a little sparkle in your eye.  You got laid!

ME:  Bingo!

BRANDON:  Who's the lucky guy?

ME:  Well, I don't want to say much because I don't want to jinx it.  But we've been seeing each other for about 6 weeks now and it's pretty intense.

BRANDON:  Holy shit.  Giovanna has broken her celibacy vow.

ME:  It wasn't a VOW per se.  I was just waiting for the right guy and the right moment.

BRANDON:  Well good luck.  So when are you going to see him again?

ME:  Tonight.

A few hours later, I was waiting anxiously at my apartment for Tyson to show up with the goods.  As I checked my cell phone for the tenth time, I heard a knock at the door.

TYSON:  You look HOT!

ME:  Thanks.  Come on in.

Tyson plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote.  I sat down next to him excitedly.

ME:  So???

TYSON: I got it.  Don't you trust me?

ME:  That is yet to be determined.  Let's see it!

He pulled a small baggie out of his pocket and dangled it in front of me.

TYSON:  My boy, Mike told me this is the best stuff. Pure MDMA.

ME:  So what's the plan?

TYSON:  I'm thinking we drop it here, wait about 30 minutes until the sun is about to set, then head down to the beach.

ME:  Great idea.  

About 45 minutes later, sitting with Tyson on the balcony, I started to recognize the familiar signs.  My hands began to sweat.  The color of the palm trees suddenly seemed to glow a brilliant green, and they waved in slow motion as if saying "Hello, Giovanna. Look how beautiful we are."

I took a deep, slow breath and felt my heart pumping rapidly inside my chest.  Then a wave of emotion passed over me.  Suddenly, their was a moist feeling between my legs.  I looked at Tyson.

TYSON:  You feeling it?

ME:  Yup.

TYSON:  You ok?

ME:  I feel amazing.

TYSON:  Good.  Let's head to the beach.

As we drove along Venice Blvd, I leaned my head against the car window and let my hand dance in the wind rushing by.  I could hear everything so clearly-little children laughing, birds chirping, and I swear I could even hear the flowers blooming.  They all combined to create an orchestra of sounds that tickled my ears.  

We parked the car in the lot and I immediately dashed towards the water.  Putting my feet into the sand felt like a mini-orgasm.  I bent down to touch it and let it run through my finger tips.

ME:  Do you FEEL that? 

Tyson walked up behind me smiling and tousled my hair.

TYSON:  Feels good, huh?

He took my hand and we walked down to the water's edge.  At some point, we must have kicked off our shoes because when I looked down, both of our feet were bare and the cold, salty water was creating a pooling around our toes.  Tyson suddenly scooped me up and chased the tide as it headed back out towards the skyline.  I screamed with delight and begged him not to throw me into the water.   

A few moments later, we were laying on our backs in the dry sand staring up at the sky.  It was streaked with lines of blue, purple, orange, and red.

ME:  Do you think God considers himself a painter?

TYSON:  I don't know if there is a God.

I rolled over onto my side and leaned on his chest.

ME:  You don't know if there's a God?!  How can you look at that and not feel the presence of God?

TYSON:  How do you know God's a guy?  If there is a God, I think she's a woman.  That's the only way to explain natural disasters.  God's on her period and feeling moody for no apparent reason.

ME:  Oh PLEASE!

TYSON:  It's the only explanation for why everything is lunar and cyclical. 

ME:  Do you want to have kids?

TYSON:  How'd we end up here?

ME:  I don't know. It just popped into my head.

TYSON:  I don't know if I'd make a good dad.  I'm really selfish.

ME:  Isn't it natural to want to leave a piece of yourself here?  So when you're gone, there's a part of you that will live on.

TYSON:  This world is really messed up.  I'm not sure I'd want to bring a kid into all of this.

ME:  Well I do.  I think I'd make a great mom.

TYSON:  I was talking to my roommate, Terri about kids and she said if everyone who wanted to have a child adopted one first, there would be no more orphanages or foster kids.

ME:  That's very noble of her.

TYSON:  Most animals just come together to mate, then they move on.

ME:  Are you comparing humans to all the other beasts of nature?

TYSON:  I mean, if you think about it, it makes sense.  Man and woman stay together long enough to create their progeny, then once the child has survived the first few years of life, they go their own separate ways.

ME:  What about love?

TYSON:  What about it?

ME:  Don't you believe that two human beings can connect so deeply that they want to be together forever?

TYSON:  Combined, my parents have been married a total of six times.  My dad has 7 kids by 5 different women.

ME:  He was a rolling stone.

TYSON:  Speaking of rolling, this E has me wanting to move.

I looked back towards the line of bars and clubs on Washington.

ME:  I hear some music coming from that way...

TYSON:  Let's go! 

Sex-capades and Strip clubs

     The power of S-E-X is overwhelming.  After hooking up with Tyson a few weeks ago, we've been engaging in citywide Sex-capades.  We did it in his car. We did outside of a bar.  We did it on the beach. We did it and I screeched. We did it at his mom's house. We did it while I wore a blouse.  And then we did it some more.

We were like 2 teenagers who just couldn't get enough.  Sometimes, we'd go out to eat. Other times, he'd just come over for an afternoon delight and head to the golf course right after.

     We even somehow ended up at a strip club near LAX, drunk out of our minds.  He insisted on buying me a lap dance for the both of us. We went to the semi-private room and I chatted with the stripper through the entire thing.

    "So, how long have you been dancing here?"  "I like your belly button ring."  "Can you say no if you DON'T want to give someone a lap dance?  Like if the guy is old and fat and gross?"  "Did you take a class to learn all this?"


     When we left the strip club, we only made it a few blocks away before we were tearing each other's clothes off.   So Tyson pulled his car off into a Target parking lot and we did it there.  And then,  he surprised me.........

MARCO:  He wants you to do ecstasy with him?

ME:  Yeah.  As we were getting dressed, he asked me if I ever did ecstasy before. I told him, of course I had.  I mean, I was a teenager in the 90's and have been to a rave or two in my day.  And then he suggested we roll together.

MARCO:  Ay dios ME-E-E-O!  What are you going to DO???

ME:  I don't know. I mean, it's been years since I've done it.  But why not.

MARCO:  Chica, it doesn't sound like you two need any ecstasy.  Everything sounds ecstatic enough already!

ME:  It does, doesn't it?  (I blushed.)

MARCO:  Well, let me know how that goes for you.

ME:  How are you and Ryan doing?

MARCO:  Ay, chica.  Ryan is straighter than George Clooney.

ME:  But I thought you said you guys had chemistry.

MARCO:  We do! But I don't think the chemistry is romantic.  He's YOUNG!  I'm a viejo.  He's white. I'm a fiery Latin lover!  I think he may be curious, but the boy is definitely not gay.  And I am not interested in twisting & turning anyone out. I need a MAN.

ME:  Well good for you.

MARCO:  I think he'll be a great friend to me, but lovers we are not.

(I looked down at my watch.)

ME:  Oh Shit, Marco!  I'm supposed to meet Brandon in 5 minutes.

MARCO:  Oooh la la, BRANDON!

ME:  Please. We're just friends.

MARCO:  You say this, but whenever I see the two of you together, I feel magico!

ME:  I think everyone feels magico when they're around Brandon.  It's his biceps. They are marvelous.

MARCO:  Oooooooh!

ME: Stop it. You're making me think dirty thoughts.  Ciao Mi Amor.

MARCO:  Ciao Mi preciosa!

He said sex doesn't feel as good with a condom

      After leaving the BE Fit Magazine offices, I felt like a celebration drink was overdue.  So I called my girlfriend, Veronica who worked as an assistant for a record label in Beverly Hills.

ME:  Vergina!

VERONICA:  I hate it when you call me that.

ME:  I know. But I have good news. Guess who WON'T be standing on the unemployment line anymore?

VERONICA:  Who even stands in unemployment lines?  Isn't all that crap on the internet?

ME:  Uhhhh!  Will you stop asking silly questions and get excited for me please? I GOT A JOB!  Let's go celebrate.  Happy Hour drinks on me.

VERONICA:  Now you're getting my Vergina wet.  Where shall I meet you?

ME:  Rodeo Drive baby!

VERONICA:  What?

ME:  I've always wanted to say that… get it?  Pretty Woman?  Kit?

                            SILENCE.

ME:  Nevermind.  Just meet me at Villa Blanca.

     Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up to Villa Blanca and promptly pulled away.  $25 for valet parking!?  Were they kidding?  I mean-Mama got a new job, but she hasn't gotten her first paycheck yet.  I found street parking and hoofed it to the entrance of the swanky Mediterranean restaurant just in time to meet Veronica.

ME:  Hey lovely.

VERONICA:  Oh, please!  I just got my period and I feel like a bloated cat in heat.

ME:  Horny period?  That happens to me too. 

VERONICA:  Is it possible for a woman to get blue balls?

I laughed as the hostess led us to our table on the front patio. 

ME:  I think a woman can get blue lips, but not so sure about the blue balls.

VERONICA: Well in that case, my lips were so blue last night they were black.

ME:  What happened?!

VERONICA:  So I went out on a third date with Eric.

ME:  You're still seeing him?  I thought you said he was too short for you.

VERONICA:  Girl-I've changed my mind.  I've decided I like them short, white and whipped just like Eric.  And he's really been blowing my skirt up.

ME:  What kind of kinky shit are the two of you into?  What is he blowing up your skirt for?

VERONICA:  Gia, that means he gets the "Vergina" moist.  He blows up my skirt!

ME: Oh, ok. Got it. Go on.

(Veronica is from Trinidad & I'm constantly confused by her "Island Speak.")

VERONICA:  So I go back to his place after our date for a nightcap.  And things start getting all hot.  Next thing you know, I'm naked and he's naked.  And of course, I ask him where the condom is at.

ME:  And?

VERONICA:  And he says, he doesn't like them because it doesn't feel as good with a condom.

ME:  Is he serious?! What are we, in 10th grade? 

VERONICA:  I know!

ME:  What did you say?

VERONICA:  I told him what feels even LESS good is not having sex at all.

ME:  Then what?  Did he tell you he was allergic to condoms too?

VERONICA:  Nope. Then he said he didn't have any.

ME:  How convenient.  Then he asked to just put the tip in, right?

VERONICA:  I think he thought about it.  But I didn't give him the chance.  I put my clothes back on this hot body and marched myself to my car.

ME:  Good for you!

VERONICA:  I've had one too many slip ups, slip offs, and period no-shows to risk another one with him.  And we're not exclusive.  I don't know what other whore he's sticking it in.  My new rule is ALWAYS make him wear a condom.

 ME:  Speaking of condoms, I think my new boss may need one for his eyes?

VERONICA:  Oh, wow!  Already?  Didn't you just start working there?

ME:  Yes! But when he looks at me, he does that thing with his eyes that makes me feel like I'm wearing lingerie.  And not La Perla or Intenzioni, but Fredericks or TRASHY lingerie.

VERONICA:  Yuck!

ME:  Thank God I get to work from home.

VERONICA:  What's the gig exactly?

ME:  I'm writing for this online magazine called BE Fit and the owner of the company is this ex-Mr. Olympia.  He's tall with this creamy milk chocolate skin.  And he looks like he could still bench press a Ford truck.

VERONICA:  Ooooh.

ME:  But he's married. I definitely saw a ring. And I saw pictures of his kids in his office.  I don't know…maybe it's just me.  Maybe I'm being overly sensitive.  He's probably not even thinking about me in that way.

VERONICA:  Honey, look at you. I'M thinking about you in that way.

ME:  Veronica you're crazy.

VERONICA:  But so what?  He wants to bang your back out.  Big deal.  How many executives do you think hire someone because of the slight possibility of seeing their nipsy russels.

ME:  Veronica! He hired me because I'm a great writer!!

VERONICA:  Of course you are. And you've also got a sweet ass.  You just have to set your boundaries with him and everything will be fine.

ME:  Okay. You're right.  Where is our waitress?

TEXT THIS!

Single men, take note. I'm about to spit some knowledge that will increase your chances of getting a woman to go out on a date with you, which, in turn, will raise your chances of getting laid. Are you ready? STOP TEXTING!!! Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. But sometimes a woman's got to get loud for a man to really get it.

A few weeks ago, I attended a Christmas party for my friend's production company. An open bar and some top quality sushi led to a few conversations with some eligible bachelors. One particular blue eyed, muscular gentleman seemed to take quite an interest in this unemployed writer. We chatted throughout the night, danced to some reggae and snapped a few photos with my new iPhone. After messaging the pics to my Christmas party paramour, he sprang to his car when his boys gave a whistle. And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But he did text me a few hours later inviting me to join him for a late night meal with his friends at a local diner. I promptly declined. My girlfriend had driven us and was anxious to get home to her man. But Mr. Muscles was sweet enough to text me again later in the evening to make sure I got home ok. AND he invited me out for a dancing date later that week. I accepted and we continued the casual texting throughout the week.

As Thursday (a.k.a. First Date Night) approached, I became a little anxious that he had not actually called me on the phone to check in, chat, and plan our evening. And as it turned out, I had a writing workshop Thursday evening that I knew would probably run pretty late into the night. So when he texted me Wednesday evening, I informed him of my scheduling snafu. His immediate text response?
"That's okay. I was thinking of inviting the crew out anyway."

The CREW?! Who was The Crew? I didn't know any fucking crew! Did he mean his friends?? Who invites their friends out on a first date without running it by someone? Red flag #1.

I immediately texted back my displeasure....
"Really? I thought it was just going to be me and you on our date?"

He responded...
"Yeah we can def do one on one. I just gotta figure out what to do with myself until 10 when your class ends."

And there was red flag #2 waving in my face. As far as I'm concerned, a 41 year-old man should not have a problem occupying himself until 10pm. And if he can't, it isn't my concern. Bitchy? Maybe. But I'm from Miami and we keeps it real!

I could feel myself becoming very annoyed over this text conversation, so I decided to end it with my final text.....

"Ok. Well I'll let you think about it. Call me in the morning so we can talk."

But the next morning brought no phone call from Mr. Blue Eyes. Red flag #3. In fact, it wasn't until 4pm on First Date Night that he finally texted (NOT called me).....

"Sup mama?"

Really? Did he really think we were on the 'Sup mama' level already?
I quickly let him know that I had expected a phone call in the morning. In fact, I prefer to speak to a person a few times on the phone before going out with a relative stranger. So a date tonight was not going to happen. He apologized for not calling and gave me some excuses about being busy in the morning and going to the gym. Typical muscle Head excuse. But in my mind, he'd already been dismissed. Honestly, if he didn't have the time or inclination to pick up the phone to chat with me, then I certainly didn't have the time to drive 25 minutes to meet him for a date.

So the red flags can stop waving. I see ya.

Second Chances

I once had a star-crossed teenage romance with a boy named Rodrigo. We were in middle school when we met. I was 13 years old. He was 12. And we were both a bundle of raging hormones and unexplored sexuality. Obviously, my mom could sense the teenage lust and forbade me from seeing him. I did see him though-every chance I got. When my mom was pre-occupied on a long distance phone call with my grandmother, I would sprint the 1 1/2 miles to his house, just to sit outside and talk to him for 10 minutes. Then I'd run back home, my heart racing more from the threat of getting caught than the exercise. And after school, he'd walk me home and we'd kiss on my front porch until our lips were raw and red. This went on for 3 or 4 years. We didn't really know what to do after the kissing got old. Well, at least I didn't know what to do. But he did.

One evening when my mom was out with my brother at a boy scouts meeting, Rodrigo came over and we made our first attempt at making love. Funny how you can know what all the working parts are, but you're not exactly sure what to do with them. We fumbled. He fingered. I pulled. We both pushed and wiggled. I felt a pinch and put an end to the sex session. If it was going to hurt, then I wasn't interested.

We tried unsuccessfully a few more times. But Rodrigo eventually got bored and decided there were other girls who were much more willing and eager to close the deal. We remained friends, even after he went on to date a few of the girls in my social circle. My mind was more focused on finishing up high school then finishing off Rodrigo. When my senior prom rolled around, I didn't have a date. My best girlfriend, Laura was dating Rodrigo's best friend, Mike. So it only made sense we'd all go together. We had a great time. We drank beer in the limo, and did the traditional red carpet processional into the prom. Inside, I danced my heart out with my friends. And right before we left, Rodrigo and I had our photo taken in front of a gaudy "Under the Sea" backdrop.

Although my mom had given me a strict 1am curphew, I had my mind set on staying out the entire night. Besides, I was leaving for college in a few months. I figured I couldn't get into TOO much trouble for breaking my curphew. So Rodrigo, Laura, Mike and I all headed to a nearby motel to have a few more beers. Rodrigo rented us our own room and had a few more beers while making out. Then, the mood suddenly changed. I told Rodrigo I had no plans to sleep with him that night. He got pissed and left for about an hour. When he came back, he cuddled up behind me and we slept like babies.

I graduated and went off to college. I met "The Italian" and dated him for four years. It was during one of our infamous "breaks" that I decided to head home to Miami for Thanksgiving. Laura knew I needed cheering up and convinced me to go out to a local bar. And there was Rodrigo. Looking just as smooth and sexy as he had 4 years earlier. As soon as he saw me, he scooped me up in a big bear hug. He told me how great I looked and I echoed his sentiments. At least, I think that's what I said. I couldn't really hear myself because my heart was pounding in my ears.

We made small talk for a few minutes, staring in each other's eyes as if there wasn't anyone else in the room. Then, he dropped the bomb. He was engaged and getting married in 3 months. My heart sank. I awkwardly congratulated him. I actually knew his fiance, Jana. She was a beautiful and sweet girl I'd ran track with in high school. I wished him the best and when he asked me for my number I changed the subject and snuck away at my first opportunity.

A week ago, Rodrigo friend requested me on Facebook. And all of the sudden, it was like I was 16 again. My heart started to pound, I was sweating and my mouth was dry. I hadn't seen him in almost 8 years! I accepted his friend request and instantly started snooping through his photos. No pictures of Jana. Only a photo of him with 2 adorable little boys. And his current city was....SAN DIEGO!!! He lived 2 hours south of me??? Not in Miami? I didn't leave any comments on his page or message him. I just waited. And sure enough, today he sent me a message congratulating me on my success as a writer and telling me I looked fantastic in my photos. I waited a few hours and responded cooly.


ME: Hey Rodrigo-Great to hear from you. I had no idea you were living in San Diego. How's life? How's Jana. Do you have any little ones? Hope all is well.

RODRIGO: I'm doing ok. Actually, I'm in the middle of a divorce. Things didn't work out between me and Jana. No house and no kids together-which is making the separation a little easier. Those are my nephews in some of my photos. I love living in San Diego. I've been here for 3 years now. I'd love to talk to you and catch up sometime. (619) 323-954*

ME: I'm really sorry to hear about your divorce. I wish the best for both you and her and will keep you in my prayers. Your nephews are adorable! I had no idea your sister had kids. It would be nice to catch up with you as well. (310) 987-122*


And now, my phone is ringing. It's a 619 number.....that's San Diego.

Roses are Red. Violets are Blue. My ex is Getting Married. What's a Girl to Do?

As if this week couldn't get anymore depressing. I was doing my usual Facebook surfing this morning when I got an IM from an old friend, Nora. Haven't actually seen her in about 2 years. But thanks to the wonders of Facebook, we've kept in touch. So, my dear friend Nora messaged me...

NORA: How r u?

ME: Great! How are you? How are Cody and the kids?

NORA: Everyone's great. Have you heard about your ex?

ME: Kyle? No. Why?

Nora: Kyle's engaged.

Just to put this all in perspective, Kyle was the love of my life. I called him The Italian. He's built like a Greek God. Tanned skin. Athletic build. And a big mouth. Less Jersey Shore and more Miami Beach mobster. A gold chain, pinky ring, unbuttoned shirt and chest hair always completed his look.

We met my first day at the University of Miami. I was an innocent little Freshman. He was a mature junior and also my R.A. He invited me to his fraternity formal two weeks into the school year. I lost my virginity to him one month later. We dated for 6 years after that. He was my first REAL boyfriend, and I thought we'd eventually get married. He moved to San Diego after he graduated to attend medical school. I'd visit him on every break. And when I graduated, I left Miami to join him in sunny SoCal. After 1 year of living together in San Diego, the relationship came to an end. I was completely devastated. I felt like my world was turned upside down. I still remember the day we walked into our apartment after a trip to the grocery store. The Italian put down his bag of Tide and toilet paper and said to me, "I don't want to do this anymore. I love you but I'm not in love with you. I want to see what else is out there." My heart dropped to the floor.

Two months later, I moved out of our apartment. The Italian and I stayed in touch after our split. We even hooked up a few times over the years, as longtime exes often do. We attempted a brief reconciliation a year after our break up. I was hesitant. Scared I'd get hurt again. But my love for him outweighed my fears. He invited me to his office Christmas party. Did I mention The Italian was a surgeon by now? Yup. A doctor of orthopedic surgery. Anyway, we both got dressed up. I wore a body hugging little black Dolce and Gabbana dress with a sexy red cape shawl thrown over my shoulders. He had on a black suit that made him look like The Italian James Bond. Okay. Maybe less James Bond and more Tony Montana. We spent that romantic night on a rented yacht off the coast of Catalina dancing beside his colleagues and their wives. He took me out on a few more dates. Then it all came to a screeching halt.

At the time, I was teaching a creative writing summer camp. Making great money to school some rich kids on how to write a screenplay. The Italian called me on my cell phone in the middle of my class. I stepped outside and was shocked by what he told me. He said that he'd been seeing another woman. A school teacher who lived in Orange County. One of the school teacher's friends had seen The Italian and I out on a date a few nights before, and now his "other woman" wanted to talk to me. "She's freaking out on me and I was wondering if you could just tell her you called me and wanted to have dinner to get some closure?" The Italian said. "You want me to LIE?!?" I hung up the phone and stopped talking to him that day.

About three years after that, The Italian called me out of the blue and asked if I wanted to accompany him on a trip to Florence-a place we had always talked about going together. He said he missed me and compared every woman he dated to me, and none of them stacked up. Duh! He also said he was ready to be a husband and father. I told him that I wasn't ready for any of that. And besides, I was in a relationship with someone else. Mark. We had just moved in together, and although our relationship was already going south, I was committed to making things work with Mark. So, as tempting as a free trip to Italy was, I declined.

A few month's later, me and Mark's relationship was finally over. Three years together and it was kaput. We were still shacked up because my new apartment wouldn't be ready until the following weekend. So I decided to take a drive down to San Diego to escape and do some writing. I contacted The Italian, cause, Hey-why not. He was so excited to hear from me and immediately invited me out to dinner. I accepted, but told him that I'd be staying at a friends place that evening, so I couldn't be out too late. It was a lie to save myself and him from the temptation of a torrid night between the sheets. Cause we both knew if there was one thing that was always good between us, it was the sex. We never had a problem in that area.

So I dropped the top on my red VW Cabriolet and headed down the coast to San Diego. On the way, I decided to call my best girlfriend who lived about an hour outside of SD. Raquel lived in Dana Point with her fiance, Tim who also happend to be best friends with The Italian. She answered the phone on the first ring.

Raquel: So what are YOU up to this weekend?

ME: Obviously you've heard.

Raquel: Of COURSE I heard. Kyle called Tim all excited about your dinner tonight. What are you thinking?

ME: I'm thinking that I'm lonely. And I miss him. And I just want to see him and find out if there's anything still there.

Raquel: Well Kyle clearly thinks there's something there. He already booked a hotel room for the two of you. At the Hotel Solamar.

ME: What?! You're kidding me.

Raquel: Nope. That's what he told Tim. He wants to seduce you tonight. Be careful.

Well there was no seduction that night. Just a great meal and a lot of wine. Then I disentangled myself from The Italian and went back to my own hotel room. At the Marriott. Definitely no Hotel Solamar. Although I was broken up with Mark, I was still technically living with him. It just didn't seem right to get physically involved with someone else, even The Italian. And besides, I was still a little burnt from him asking me to lie to his school teacher girlfriend.

We talked on the phone a few times after that. Debated meeting up or a coffee, just to catch up. But we never followed through. And now, he's getting married. And it's not to me.

Somehow, I find some solace in the thought that he surely bought her engagement ring from Zale's. I hope to God he also bought himself a new gold chain.

At Least I Showered Today....

Even a confidant, beautiful, avant garde goddess has a bad day from time to time. A day where you deserve a standing ovation for just making it out of bed and into the shower. Today was one of those days.

I am an unemployed writer. There. I said it. And yes-it hurt. I finished my last project a month ago. I did re-writes on a trashy romance novel that's being adapted into a screenplay. Oddly enough-I have no romance in my life right now. Although my existence has been playing out like a bad romcom...Just this week, one of my girlfriends, Leslie, really pissed me off. She is an out of work executive assistant who's been living off of her boyfriend, Rick for the past year and a half. She's funny. Smart. Slightly overweight, which one wouldn't realize, except she points it out to people. Leslie is 98% bubbly spirit and about 2% ambition. She has almost no drive when it comes to her career. In fact, Leslie's shown no real initiative or desire to return to the work force. Leslie is not a writer. She's never expressed any interest, talent or dreams of writing. And three days ago, she called to tell me she got a new job. As a writer. Even worse. She's a travel writer. Yup. She stole MY dream job. She'll be writing stories for "The Voyager's Journal", an online magazine that I've submitted my work to multiple times. And the title of her first article?
"Up, up, and Away...Traveling First Class for the First Time"

I wanted to throw my phone at the wall when she told me that. First-for the corny title and second because she STOLE MY JOB. But I kept my cool and set down my cell. Lord knows I don't have the cash for a replacement iPhone. And instead of expressing my jealous outrage and indignation at how God could allow such a travesty to happen - I congratulated her and told her my kitchen was on fire and I'd have to call her later. Obviously, Leslie didn't take the hint, because she called me again last night to tell me Rick had proposed. FANTASTIC! Throw another nail in the coffin of my youth.

Don't get me wrong. I am happy for Leslie. It's just kind of hard to jump up and down with her as she celebrates her amazing new career and engagement. While I sit at home alone, 31 years old, out of work, single, and with no discernible dating prospects on the horizon. Leslie pretty much has the life I'd imagined for myself at 31.

So I allowed myself to mope for 2 hours today. I layed there in bed and let the envy and jealousy to wash over me. I imagined the beautiful house that I'd buy if I was bringing home Leslie's paycheck. The wedding dress that I'd wear if I were getting married "next September 8th at the Ritz Carlton in Marina del Rey". I thought about how I'd graciously thank all of my guests and look surprised when my muscular new husband scooped me up and carried me out to the white Rolls Royce waiting to take us to the Santa Monica airport to catch a private jet to our honeymoon in Bali. I'd toss my bouquet over my shoulder as an after thought while we sped off. And upon our return to the States, I'd write an article about the wonders of traveling through Southeast Asia with your best friend, husband and partner. And of course, I'd get nominated for a Lowell Thomas Award and I'd receive a Solas Award nomination.

And then, at 11:45am, I called THAT'S A WRAP! on my moping session. I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I stared into the mirror and faced my true reality. As I turned on the water and the mirror began to steam, I thought to myself-Hey, at least I showered today.