MY BODY IS A BILLBOARD AND OTHER STUPID CHOICES
I will be the first to admit that I have done many stupid things in my life...MANY stupid things. I have been too impulsive, too naive, too whimsical, too much a believer in signs, too klutzy, too mouthy, and too animated in my hand gestures (this having led to the injuries of myself and others). I do not deny these things. I have the scars, both physical and emotional, to prove it. It's okay, I can at least admit it and most of the mistakes can be laughed at. The ones that are difficult to find funny and instead should have had me institutionalized at the first announcement of said mistake, are the ones involving love.
I am not a believer in fairy tales, but I do believe in signs and I used to believe in love and those things have led me to much trouble. I was engaged after two weeks of knowing my first fiancé when I was 18. I almost moved to L.A. for a different relationship, but wizened up and realized that was too risky (why did I have more sense than now?). I was 24 when I bought a house with the man I'd only been dating for five...yes five...months. I then decided this meant we needed to marry since we owned a home and we did seven months later. I then cried in the plane bathroom on our way home from our honeymoon because I realized what I'd done and wasn't ready for marriage and then resented my husband for the next three years for something that I had wanted, until we finally divorced. I have decided it'd be fantastic to go for a drive in the woods with a stranger I'd just met who wanted to show me elk (luckily he really did). I spent a weekend with a man whom when looking for a pen in his glove box, discovered paperwork showing his recent release from a mental hospital. I have had plenty of flings, dates, brief relationships and such that all sounded wonderful at the time; I think maybe like a handful really were. Seriously, I'm beyond an idiot about this stuff.
Friend: Heather, I don't think you should go out with that guy. I think he was just doing coke in the bathroom and I saw him kick a puppy.
Me: No, he wasn't doing coke. He said his allergies are just really bad and his Nasonex leaves a white residue. And he didn't kick the puppy, he TRIPPED over the puppy. Trust me, I get a good vibe from this guy. Plus he was black hair and thick eyebrows! You KNOW how dreamy that is to me. And he volunteers for the DOT on weekends! You know how much I believe in volunteering and giving back.
After one to three dates I then realize he is a total cokehead, is mean to animals and is doing community service for his domestic violence charges. Seriously...stupid, stupid choices.
And of course we have the master takeover of retardation in moving 3,000 miles for someone I fell in love with after a week and dated long distance for three months. Most friends expressed concern and called me crazy, but I would exclaim they "just didn't understand"! Then stupid romantic, whimsical Heather packed up her shit, drove 3,000 miles and moved in with a very sweet and loving man who was also a terrible alcoholic that liked to be scary and abusive in blackouts. I think someone should have kidnapped me upon my initial announcement of moving here to stop me for my own good. Since this last debacle, I've been heartbroken and angry at myself and stayed away from men. I feel so fucked up and broken after this last one that I think I would be toxic to someone. So I stayed away...until last night.
Oh god, this is so bad.
Every Wednesday is Girls' Night and some of my girlfriends and I go to our favorite wine bar, and then sometimes off to another place where their brother-in-law DJ's. It's always a great time and it's what I look forward to every week. Wait. I must preface this with something. I recently admitted to a friend that I have a crush on someone. It's just a harmless little crush that helps me realize that I am not totally dead inside. That is a lot of progress for me. I knew if I were asked out or...god forbid...touched, I'd probably run away and cry. So I for now am just enjoying having a little crush on a nice, funny guy. That is enough for me. No expectations, no wants, just a cute guy I enjoy talking to and want nothing more from.
Well, I think having a crush must have subliminally opened some old door. Pandora's box, but a different kind of box. You see, I drank a bit too much last night. Okay, so not "a bit too much"...I got wasted. The last thing I remember is being at the other bar after the wine bar. I woke up early this morning in pain and in a strange room. There was a body next to me...alive, thank god. Holy shit! Who was this person? What happened? Where was I? Why does my butt cheek hurt so bad? I got up and got dressed quietly and went to look for my purse. I picked it up and this woke up the sleeping man in bed. I needed to get out, and NOW! I can't believe I slept with someone...and I didn't even have the luxury of remembering it. This is terrible. I am 37, not 22.
The sound of me picking up my purse awoke him. He sat up (ok, kind of cute) and asked where I was going? I said I had to get home so I could get ready for work. I internally panicked thinking of what if I can't figure my way home? He got up and gave me a kiss and told me he'd call me later. I said okay, still wondering who this person was? He started laughing and told me I was crazy and he couldn't believe I went through with the dare.
I am now alarmed. What dare?
He then smacked my ass and the pain was awful! Oh no. Why does my butt hurt? I asked what he meant and he looked shocked and asked if I remembered? I told him no, that I don't remember much of last night. He gives me a concerned look and asks if I remember his name? I start to cry and say I don't and that I don't even remember meeting him. I can't tell if he's pissed or scared by the look on his face. So then he starts to fill me in...
We met at the second bar and started doing shots. I rarely do shots. They do not like me and I do not like them. He said my friends all left and tried to convince me to go too, but I wouldn't. He said that we really hit it off and were talking about marriage and I was saying how I didn't ever want to get married again, but would love to for like a day just so I could say, "And my second husband...." So apparently he said he could help with that if it were only for a day and we agreed to go do so. I started crying really hard then. Oh my god, did I marry this guy? He quickly reassured me we hadn't because we had to have a marriage license and it was obviously too late to get one or get married. He told me we were joking around about how neither of us could afford getting wedding bands and so I suggested tattoos with each other's names on it. He quipped back that I'd never do that and I got pissed he questioned that. He said he dared me to do it then, that if I did he would pay for it and we'd get married as soon as we could and then get it annulled.
Long story short, I went through with it he said. I was now sobbing and ran into the bathroom. I knew where it was because of the pain. I pulled my pants down and there it was. Oh god, it was so much worse than I thought. Not only did I have a tattoo on my ass, but the tattoo was devastating. It was another fucking dolphin and has a trail of supposed water behind it's tail (why do they always have spray off their tail?) that spelled out this guy's name...Josh. At least I knew his name now. Oh my god!!! Why would I do this? I can't afford to have it removed, and I do not want someone's name on me, and for fuck's sake...another dolphin? I don't know which is worse? Okay, I do, but you have to admit it's a close call.
I had to leave to go home and then go to work, but we agreed to get together this weekend. I don't know if it's so I can learn more of the story or simply know something about the man on my ass. Either way it seems somewhat necessary in a weird way. I almost feel like we have to date since his name is on my butt. This is all totally devastating to me. I am almost 40-years old and I continue to make stupid choice after stupid choice. I love a good story, but this is just shameful! I think we can all agree that the name of this stupid choice can be summed up in one word...tequila. I'm never drinking again...or maybe I'll just start selling advertising space on my body. Could be a good second job.
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I am not a believer in fairy tales, but I do believe in signs and I used to believe in love and those things have led me to much trouble. I was engaged after two weeks of knowing my first fiancé when I was 18. I almost moved to L.A. for a different relationship, but wizened up and realized that was too risky (why did I have more sense than now?). I was 24 when I bought a house with the man I'd only been dating for five...yes five...months. I then decided this meant we needed to marry since we owned a home and we did seven months later. I then cried in the plane bathroom on our way home from our honeymoon because I realized what I'd done and wasn't ready for marriage and then resented my husband for the next three years for something that I had wanted, until we finally divorced. I have decided it'd be fantastic to go for a drive in the woods with a stranger I'd just met who wanted to show me elk (luckily he really did). I spent a weekend with a man whom when looking for a pen in his glove box, discovered paperwork showing his recent release from a mental hospital. I have had plenty of flings, dates, brief relationships and such that all sounded wonderful at the time; I think maybe like a handful really were. Seriously, I'm beyond an idiot about this stuff.
Friend: Heather, I don't think you should go out with that guy. I think he was just doing coke in the bathroom and I saw him kick a puppy.
Me: No, he wasn't doing coke. He said his allergies are just really bad and his Nasonex leaves a white residue. And he didn't kick the puppy, he TRIPPED over the puppy. Trust me, I get a good vibe from this guy. Plus he was black hair and thick eyebrows! You KNOW how dreamy that is to me. And he volunteers for the DOT on weekends! You know how much I believe in volunteering and giving back.
After one to three dates I then realize he is a total cokehead, is mean to animals and is doing community service for his domestic violence charges. Seriously...stupid, stupid choices.
And of course we have the master takeover of retardation in moving 3,000 miles for someone I fell in love with after a week and dated long distance for three months. Most friends expressed concern and called me crazy, but I would exclaim they "just didn't understand"! Then stupid romantic, whimsical Heather packed up her shit, drove 3,000 miles and moved in with a very sweet and loving man who was also a terrible alcoholic that liked to be scary and abusive in blackouts. I think someone should have kidnapped me upon my initial announcement of moving here to stop me for my own good. Since this last debacle, I've been heartbroken and angry at myself and stayed away from men. I feel so fucked up and broken after this last one that I think I would be toxic to someone. So I stayed away...until last night.
Oh god, this is so bad.
Every Wednesday is Girls' Night and some of my girlfriends and I go to our favorite wine bar, and then sometimes off to another place where their brother-in-law DJ's. It's always a great time and it's what I look forward to every week. Wait. I must preface this with something. I recently admitted to a friend that I have a crush on someone. It's just a harmless little crush that helps me realize that I am not totally dead inside. That is a lot of progress for me. I knew if I were asked out or...god forbid...touched, I'd probably run away and cry. So I for now am just enjoying having a little crush on a nice, funny guy. That is enough for me. No expectations, no wants, just a cute guy I enjoy talking to and want nothing more from.
Well, I think having a crush must have subliminally opened some old door. Pandora's box, but a different kind of box. You see, I drank a bit too much last night. Okay, so not "a bit too much"...I got wasted. The last thing I remember is being at the other bar after the wine bar. I woke up early this morning in pain and in a strange room. There was a body next to me...alive, thank god. Holy shit! Who was this person? What happened? Where was I? Why does my butt cheek hurt so bad? I got up and got dressed quietly and went to look for my purse. I picked it up and this woke up the sleeping man in bed. I needed to get out, and NOW! I can't believe I slept with someone...and I didn't even have the luxury of remembering it. This is terrible. I am 37, not 22.
The sound of me picking up my purse awoke him. He sat up (ok, kind of cute) and asked where I was going? I said I had to get home so I could get ready for work. I internally panicked thinking of what if I can't figure my way home? He got up and gave me a kiss and told me he'd call me later. I said okay, still wondering who this person was? He started laughing and told me I was crazy and he couldn't believe I went through with the dare.
I am now alarmed. What dare?
He then smacked my ass and the pain was awful! Oh no. Why does my butt hurt? I asked what he meant and he looked shocked and asked if I remembered? I told him no, that I don't remember much of last night. He gives me a concerned look and asks if I remember his name? I start to cry and say I don't and that I don't even remember meeting him. I can't tell if he's pissed or scared by the look on his face. So then he starts to fill me in...
We met at the second bar and started doing shots. I rarely do shots. They do not like me and I do not like them. He said my friends all left and tried to convince me to go too, but I wouldn't. He said that we really hit it off and were talking about marriage and I was saying how I didn't ever want to get married again, but would love to for like a day just so I could say, "And my second husband...." So apparently he said he could help with that if it were only for a day and we agreed to go do so. I started crying really hard then. Oh my god, did I marry this guy? He quickly reassured me we hadn't because we had to have a marriage license and it was obviously too late to get one or get married. He told me we were joking around about how neither of us could afford getting wedding bands and so I suggested tattoos with each other's names on it. He quipped back that I'd never do that and I got pissed he questioned that. He said he dared me to do it then, that if I did he would pay for it and we'd get married as soon as we could and then get it annulled.
Long story short, I went through with it he said. I was now sobbing and ran into the bathroom. I knew where it was because of the pain. I pulled my pants down and there it was. Oh god, it was so much worse than I thought. Not only did I have a tattoo on my ass, but the tattoo was devastating. It was another fucking dolphin and has a trail of supposed water behind it's tail (why do they always have spray off their tail?) that spelled out this guy's name...Josh. At least I knew his name now. Oh my god!!! Why would I do this? I can't afford to have it removed, and I do not want someone's name on me, and for fuck's sake...another dolphin? I don't know which is worse? Okay, I do, but you have to admit it's a close call.
I had to leave to go home and then go to work, but we agreed to get together this weekend. I don't know if it's so I can learn more of the story or simply know something about the man on my ass. Either way it seems somewhat necessary in a weird way. I almost feel like we have to date since his name is on my butt. This is all totally devastating to me. I am almost 40-years old and I continue to make stupid choice after stupid choice. I love a good story, but this is just shameful! I think we can all agree that the name of this stupid choice can be summed up in one word...tequila. I'm never drinking again...or maybe I'll just start selling advertising space on my body. Could be a good second job.
Read More
