Friday, January 18, 2008

Drama Queens Should Never Shop Alone

I only went into the damn store to pick up cigarettes. I do it all the time. I really do. I go into that store. All. The. Time. This, was not supposed to happen.

I bumped into my ex in aisle 2. Well, I almost did. I would have if I had taken three steps more. First I should say that I don't normally even go down aisle two, but I reminded myself that I needed bottled water, and I can never remember what fucking aisle it's in, even though I buy it, weekly. It wasn't in aisle two. Anyway...I heard his voice as I was looking down and I snapped my head up fast enough that I was able to dodge behind a display of Christmas shit that hasn't sold yet. Please never remind me when I'm old and gray that I hid from an ex-boyfriend behind a Santa missing an arm and a tooth colored black with a marker, while my nose dripped and I was too scared to make a noise, so I just let it.

There he was, standing there, like we never dated, talking on his cell phone. Didn't we divvy up California after we broke up? I thought so. I still take weekend visits to San Francisco, therefore northern California is mine. He told me he was moving, anyway...What was he doing in my half of the state?

There was something about not being prepared to see him that yanked my insides down and pulled me back behind that decrepit Santa.

He was talking on the phone to someone, laughing every few seconds about some story that I wasn't getting to hear. He pushed his hair back behind his ear and leaned forward, looking in the air, with a slightly annoyed, worried look on his face and trying to improve his reception. It's his new girlfriend on the phone. It's all I could think at the time. It had to be. She was probably telling him all about her day, and babbling on about the most mundane things in the world, and of course he looked absolutely charmed by every syllable that came out of her mouth. Maybe he craves her like that. When she talks, he doesn't float away like he would when I'd talk about some shit that happened at work because he just misses her, that much.

She's probably absolutely perfect, with one of those kick-ass lifestyles. She's smart and talented, with a car. A shiny car that never breaks down. And, um, food always comes out of the oven on time and cooked perfectly. I bet the bitch bakes her own bread. From scratch. Something I've never, ever been able to do. She probably has one of those bodies that bounces back after childbirth (10 times), and she never, ever has to go to the gym. She's just always skinny. She probably always has perfectly crispy clean sheets that she irons, and she recycles everything. Even newspaper. She has the perfect dog that catches Frisbees in the park, instead of my slightly neurotic dog that can't quite grasp the idea of fetch. She gives the best back rubs and blow jobs and never demands that he reciprocate. She doesn't eat much, but when she does, it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen. I bet her name is something incredibly sexy, like Holly, Yvette, or Tiffany. She cums the second he's inside her and she's always left satisfied.

And then it happened, as it often does in these parts. He lost the call. I heard him shout "Hello?!?!" a couple of times before closing the flip phone. The signal must have faded.

Would he call her immediately back? Would he stop the next shopper he saw, demanding to use his or her cell phone to call her back and tell her how sorry he was that they were interrupted? Would he run out of the store, leaving his cart full of perishables to be by her side as soon as possible? What would he do?

He shrugged. Made one of those, 'whatever' faces and shoved the phone back into his pocket. I guess it wasn't Tiffany. Or maybe Yvette doesn't excite him enough that he needs to call her back immediately.

Or maybe, just maybe, he still wished the girl on the other line was me.

Infinite X's and O's...



  1. You are Tiffany, Holly and Yvette all rolled up into one for someone out there. Don't forget that. . . .

  2. Love will find its way through your doors too.
    He is not lucky enuf..

  3. The one for you is out there.... Maybe in the "meat" isle... lol

  4. Drama queen indeed! Girl you have all of these things going for you. If he wasn't "The one" that "one" is still out there and waiting.

  5. Wow, someone took their crazy woman pills tonight . . .

  6. Jen, I guess we all have our moments of insecurity.

    Veens, he was lucky enough. He just chose not to stay lucky enough.

    Random, now THAT is something I can relate to. I should go shopping more often.

    Sinead, I often wonder...

    Malach, who?

  7. hey... maybe he was just talking to his mom *shrug*

  8. I'm new here and don't pretend to know you or what your deal is, but I really like your style and I hope being that you don't know me I can comment freely. It sounds to me like you're just dwelling on something that's not really worth dwelling on. How many times did he pretend the call dropped when he was talking to you? Think about it.

  9. Great story SC - do you still want him? Or was it just a shock? x

  10. I wish you had instead reacted by throwing a container of canned biscuits to the back of his head. And THEN went to hide.


  11. I bet he was talking to one of those 1-900 sex line numbers.

    Or maybe he saw you first and just wanted you to think he had a life after you so he was pretending to talk to someone.

  12. White girl, I highly doubt that. I couldn't sworn I heard a "What are you wearing?" comment.

    Grizzly, first off, new comments are always welcome here. I love the feedback. Secondly, you're probably right. I can say in my defense, he never dropped a call while we were talking.

    Kitty, I can't say I still want him. If we had to opportunity to get back together, I'd probably go for it and regret it within a week's time. Does that make sense?

    A girly, I once threw a pot at him. Ah, brings back memories.

    Mike, you're so fucking awesome. I love your outlook on things. You always manage to make me come out on top. Hey, why am I always on top? Lazy...

  13. I avoid women that have so much, and want more, but that's just me. He can't get to you unless you let him, just move on.

    Ha!! I make my own bread.

  14. She's probably 350 lbs., three teeth, rides the bus to work and smells of sweat sox.

    Oh yeah, and her name is Hildegarde.

  15. well I hve to say, its obvious to me, she hates giving head, her only position is missionary, the only sex for him is in the bed. She can't cook worth dick, she hates sports, she can't find the TV clicker and she hasn't a clue how to open and deliver a beer.
    Shes surely a loser, and I'm bettin she aint pretty as you either.

  16. bbc, you're not avoiding me though. I tend to let a lot of things get to me that probably shouldn't. p.s. I hate you and the Pillsbury dough boy, alike.

    Colonel, what a refreshing notion. I pictured Helga, or Olga, with your description, but Hildegarde could work, too.

    South Sage, I hate sports, for the most part, but I betcha my boyfriends never know that. Hence the great time I have while watching football. See below.
    How do you know if I'm pretty or not? I might look like Leona Helmsly with 5 more face lifts.

  17. I'm not sure, but I think there's a song in there somewhere. Either somethin' like Alanis Morissette or maybe country western. Um, nix that. I don't listen to anyone named Alanis Morissette. Don't even know who HE is.

  18. I'm sure that I could say a million cliches about how there are more fish in the sea or how love lost is wisdom gained. And I'm sure that you would be polite and say I was right, like you do for so many other people. This, my dear is one of those qualities that makes you special. Of course that, and you have a great ass.

  19. How did I miss this post? Sounds to me like you're back!

  20. You should have walked by with a big box of the EXTRA LARGE condom box.

  21. Dubya, An older version of me
    Is she perverted like me
    Would she go down on you in a theater
    Does she speak eloquently
    And would she have your baby
    I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother. Alanis Morisette. I actually dig that song. She almost sounds Irish in it.

    Lurker, keep dreaming, Honey. Maybe one of these days I'll throw you a bone.

    Lucky, fuck yeah, girlie. I missed being myself. That lethargic skin I was dragging around has been shed.

    Raggy, and THAT is why I love you like I do.

  22. He only wants to play. Give the guy a little attention. He'll thank you for it and take a nice long nap.

    True, but he only wants to play with something that he thinks will be a nice long relationship.

    And he won't take a nice long nap, even at 64 he is still horny most days. Even if he got some yesterday.

    Sigh, such is life.

  23. Haha! You could've answered it on your blog, I would've checked sooner or later. No worries though. I do believe you and your hands are bound for life. So I believe that's the longest relationship of them all.

  24. Sounds to me like she was nagging the shit outta him over the phone. He was looking up and pretending to laugh.

    It was probably that laugh of pain. You know the "Holy shit how did I end up with this bitch. I WAS dating the smartest, funniest, hottest chick in California and I effed that all up. Now looking at me! Standing in Ilse freaking 2 at the store with this crazy woman going on and on and on about nothing. She is suffocating me. I want to just run away."

    Or something close to that.

    When the signal went away he probably "accidentally" turned his phone off and thought "Thank God" to himself.

  25. If it were me I would have started a fire in the aisle and watched as everyone ran out of the store while laughing in a psychotic manner... I just assumed everyone would do that.

  26. Jay, as if! really think so?

    Ron, this should only be done in extreme cases of boredom and wearing a black ski mask.

  27. I'm pretty glad too. It feels good being myself again.

  28. This has happened to me before too and you know what I wonder? If my ex saw me, would he hide behind the decripit Santa too?

    Tiffany probably has different sized boobs and low self esteem, a job she's embarrassed of so she makes up a different title to sound cooler, and she's one of those chics that refuses to drink beer. I wouldn't worry - you are by far a better catch. *wink*

  29. As for the accumulation of things, when my aunt died a few weeks ago, she had EVERYTHING from childhood on. I'm telling you...she even had notes and letters from the 60s. Boxes and boxes of accumulated shit, I mean memories to wade through. My Mom managed to keep a few of those boxes. I imagine I'll have a lot to go through one of these days.

    Na, just chuck it all in the garbage hon. It's like all the crap that piles up on my desk, every so often I just toss it all away, it's no big deal, there is more coming at me all the time.

    The only place you have to keep memories is in your mind. Not that I remember where I put my mind. LOL.. It doesn't matter though, it's all just monkey shit in the ruts of time and space behind us.

    I try to always keep looking forward. Maybe that is something idiots do?

  30. Random Moments, you are the sweetest thing. Your comments always make me feel better.

    bbc, why do you keep answering comments from your blog, on mine? Answer me there. It's fine. I'll check it.

  31. Who among us hasn't hidden from an ex in some fashion?? You summed up the thought process exactly! Nicely done~

  32. Sara, I know what you mean. If it wasn't behind that Santa it was behind a phone or a friend.

  33. how dare he!!?!?!
    oh my friggin word... why could you not have looked fabulous and blown him away whilst pretending not to know who he is!!?!?

  34. Oh honey, I always look fabulous when I go out. It's more just the shock of seeing someone that makes you hide. I guess the tinge of jealousy that comes along with it.

  35. Don't forget, she does his laundry and irons it perfectly and she's got lots of good looking girlfriends that she is always happy to share in a threesome.
    Wow, what a goil.