Divorced Dating and Damn Drama (18 page)

BOOK: Divorced Dating and Damn Drama
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"Good, because it's correct." Ben smiles. "So what do you like to do for fun?'

"I love to watch TV."

"No, Actually I'm going to have to correct you on that. You like to worship the devil for fun."

"'Look, I think I know what I like to do for fun, thank you very much."

"Don't get all bitchy with me." See? See how guys can correct women with false information but the moment women correct a man the B word comes out. I just want to say that standing up for yourself does not make you a bitch. Holding on to your beliefs does not make you a bitch. Doing what you feel is right does not make you a bitch. What makes you a bitch is agreeing blindly with a guy for the sole reason he is a guy.

Chapter fifty one

Now that it is hotter out, hooray winter is over, the pool in my apartment is something every man now wants to get his hands on. Men will skirt around making up complex excuses not to meet me but once they find out I have a pool they are knocking on my door.

"Do you want to go out then?" I text Jeff. He is 37 with a heart of gold. Corny, right? He lives in a trailer with his two cousins who happen to have families of their own. So in total there are 7 people living in a single wide trailer that belongs to his grandpa.

"Yeah, of course I do but I have to make a canoe, you know for the annual canoe race." He stammers, sending me the hundredth photo of himself. I know people like sending and receiving photos but come on. It has been less than an hour and you have sent one hundred photo of yourself taken of you sitting in a recliner wearing a gray t shirt with an animal character on it.

"When do you race?" I ask, refusing to acknowledge his photo.

"Annually," He stammers sending five more photos. All still of him wearing the same shirt sitting in the same recliner.

"Can we meet after?" I ask, knowing full well there is no canoe race.

"It depends; I might be going to medical school." Jeff lies.

"What medical school did you apply to?" I demand.

"The good one," Jeff replies sarcastically.

"Well if you do find some free time maybe we could go swimming in my complex's pool." I suggest.

"I didn't know you had a pool. I'm free now. What's the address?" Jeff asks eagerly. You see, people only want to
meet me if they can get something out of it. Yes
, I want to get a relationship out of a date but I thought that was the whole point of online dating. To date and forge a relationship.

So Sara just threw a Gossip lamp at my head for waking her up before supper. It's 6pm, she literally wastes the days away. But she has agreed to make me a "star." I asked her to take some photos of me in hops that I will upload them and meet guys that I actually want to date. I feel like I sold my sole to the devil. However, I'm going to try it. Sara comes to my room at 11pm to do the shoot. Am I the only one who has work in the morning? But I'm desperate, remember, so we do the shoot.

"First it's your face, and it needs to be fixed." Says the blow up doll. She was wearing a teal onesie with a rather large Gossip gold chain like some sort of out of tune rapper. What's that I smell? Baked cookies, really? This cesspool of disease
smells like fresh baked cookies. I look down at my own
outfit. And of course I am wearing a stained cat shirt that I got at Goodwill with a moth hole on the collar. My pants are faded black sweat pants with grass stains on the knees. I smell like the dumpster. We are in Ruby's old room, aka Sara's photo studio.

"How?" I ask looking up at her. Her eyes shining in the light from the street lamp that shines in through the window. Her eyes sparkle like a disco ball. I turn to the mirror on the floor and notice that my eyes are two different sizes and just below them
are dark bags. I should be asleep.

"Makeup, silly goose." She starts applying
Vaseline to my face. I don't think she is doing this right. But I hold my tongue. She sings while she works. Her voice isn't going to win any talent competitions but it isn't half bad either. When she is finished poking and prodding at my face, she steps back to admire her work. She makes last minute touches with lip gloss and blush.

"Ok, now your outfit." Sara stammers. She digs though her lavish collection of bright expensive designer clothes and picks out this red sleek dress. She holds it up and says "you are not ready for red, this color is above you." She then throws a dark purple skin tight latex dress at me. I struggle to put it on, but with the help of some more Vaseline rubbed on my body I manage to squeeze in it. This isn't really a dress, this is some sort of medieval torture device. I pull at it awkwardly. I don't have a figure and I feel squished. I struggle to get my balance and straighten up. She says I look "hot" but I just look cheap. I don't know about this. She places purple velvet heels on my feet. I try to stand my own then start to fall. Now, if you know me, I hate falling. In fact that will be number two on my fear list. Number one is something happening to my car. So anyways, I start to fall and grab onto Sara and end up pulling her down with me. You know the saying; if I fall I'm talking you down with me. Well, when I say it I mean it literarily
.
She grabs my arm and drags me up with a surprising amount of strength. I mean, I'm clearly twice her size. She manually poses me then rushes behind the camera. Rotating around me in a circle taking photos, she even goes up on a chair indoors to do some sort of aerial view. Two hours pass, two hours, and I haven't even moved. She then sits down at the computer and starts editing like crazy. She motions for me to sit down with a wave of her hand. My knees buckle and I crash to the floor again. Modeling must be the worst job on the planet. I just chill there while she has some sort of video chat with someone unaware or uncaring of my mental state. She uploads the photos and updates my profile. She then looks from my computer screen, rolls her eyes and helps me out of the torture device.

I view my new and improved photos and profile. Before I was divorced, looking for something real, now I'm looking for fun. She says no one wants a ball and chain and boys just want to have fun too. My cat number decreased from seven to zero and she added a turtle. Everyone wants someone with a quirky pet, she explains. My age is dropped from 27 to 22. I'm now starting to feel like the people I hate. My photos are professionally done complete with Sara's
watermark. Its remarkable, she was able to
transforms me into her in the photo.

Chapter fifty two

I watch the news while chatting with my online conquests and hear that Judge Right has yet again made the wrong decision. He overturned the guilty verdict that eleven other innocent jury members and I delivered. The judges excuse, oops, I
mean reasoning, was that there was insufficient evidence.
I scoff; the evidence was there and it was clear as day. That's why we didn't need a month to deliberate. Justice for no one
except the rich and powerful. I turn my head back to the
computer and sip my soda pop. "In breaking news a woman and man found dead in Community Park, identities have not yet been released." blares the television. I turn my head. I know those victims. They served on the jury with me. Well that's unfortunate. I turn back to my computer and resume typing away, thinking nothing of the coincidence. What? I can't spend all day figuring out 'who done it' in a murder case. I already served on a jury, now you want me to put all the pieces together, maybe do some investigating on my own and find out who killed the two jury members? Do I really have nothing better to do then put myself in dangerous situations and interfere with a police investigation just to prove that the same guy who I convicted is killing off us jury members? Why? So judge Rich can get him off again? The system is corrupted, and I have no
intention of getting involved.

Back to online dating. What I did notice more with my glam look verses my regular looking me is that people block me faster. When I'm in a heated argument, usually the difference between right or wrong, I get block fairly quickly. But before people did seem to give me lag time before blocking me. I think this might be because they thought I was stupider. Like my IQ dropped the minute I put on a short dress and straightened my hair. I usually don't block people because frankly I love to argue, after the divorce I have gotten a fire in me that is hard to extinguish
. I don't always have to be right, but
I like reaching a compromise where we both acknowledge that we had good points or that I'm right on rare occasions. Before I think people listened to me more, valued my opinion and let me contribute more to the intellectual
side of the conversation. Now they just
shut me off and claim I have no idea what I am talking about, when in most cases I speak only from first hand experiences. They also disregard me as cheap and easily obtainable or dare I say: controllable.

Chapter fifty three

It's that time again. Time for another meet and greet. Now that I am a new person I
have a boost of confidence. I'm wearing a
white silk strapless dress, a black lace belt and sleek
black pumps. My nails are carefully manicured. My makeup was done by
Sara, complete with fake lashes. She took a photo of me for her instagram. I'm her "success" story. Am I the only one who thinks she is putting way too much pressure on me? I'm saying, I am probably going to fail miserably. You know because history repeats itself. Also I just got my bill for rental cars and they are really expensive. So tonight I'm using Ruby's car. I made a deal with her, we go 50/50 on everything. I get to go on dates with her car, but I still have to ride the bus to work. It's not so bad now; I know the people on the bus and we now have developed a kind of a bond. They still hate me, but I'm theirs to hate. Like a family, you can hate your siblings but you get really offended if people hate your siblings. What? I always wanted a brother.

I pay the 10 bucks to park close. This is the new me, and I'm going to make the right impression this time. I heavily spray body spray on before leaving my car, so I don't smell bad. I open the door and step out with a splash. A splash? What? Is this motor oil? I just stepped in motor oil. I paid ten bucks to ruin, not even MY, shoes. It doesn't matter who I try to be, my luck follows me everywhere. I get out and slam the door. What's done is done. I'm just going to overlook the universe hating me for tonight.

I walk up the steps and slip once I reach the top. I land with a thud on my stomach. Really! I look down, black ice, come on. What happened to winter being over?
What is this just a cold day or
something? I crawl into the building then stand up. There is a big wet spot on my dress. It looks like I just pissed myself. Now I'm used to having bad luck, but today is especially hard. I go into the bathroom and use the blow dryer to try to blow my dress dry. A woman walks behind me and asks me if I'm ok.

"Are you ok sweetie?" she asks. I turn around and notice it's not a woman, yes, it is a cross dressing man. I smile sheepishly at him and leave the bathroom. Upon reentering the main hall, I
realize all the "girls" here are men. I pull out
the email from my purse "come one, come all to the sexiest men's meet and greet." Hmm, so I guess they meant only men. I did not get that part. But I'm already here, so let's get this party started.

I sit on the "women's" side and let's just say, they look almost as good as me. What? Sara says I need to be more confident. Once everyone has settled in, the announcer gives his speech. He is dressed circus like, one half of him is dressed as a man, tuxedo with a mustache and hat, on the other side he is a dressed as a woman, short dress with makeup. I wonder if he only shaved one of his legs or if under the pant leg on his man si
de it is shaved as well. I feel like it would be weird
to ask. But I really want to know.

Ding! The first man sits down. He is a bear of a man, with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. His hair is shoulder length and his eyes are dark brown. I lean back and put on my best duck face.

"You're not a man."' Derik says without warning.

"Do you want me to be?"' I coo. He flags down the announcer to come over.

"This is an event for men, you should leave!" Demands the announcer.

"But I'm already here," I complain.

"You're a waste of everyone's time." He says blandly. Wow, really? I waste everyone's time? No one even has the opportunity to walk away with this prize now.

"What's your problem? I'm not doing anything." He motions over to the bouncers and I get thrown out. Really? I have been flashed, asked to drink human urine and touched
weirdly but this is what people throw people out for? Really? I can't help but feel hated.
The announcer explained that people are not here to meet me and I would only be embarrassing myself if I stayed. You know what? If I had a dime for every time a man said I was embarrassing myself I'd have 20 or 30 dimes by now. That's two or three dollars people!

Chapter fifty four

No, I will not buy your friends food, please stop asking. What? I can't go around buying everyone's food; I just don't have that kind of money. Ok, let me tell you what happened. Has anyone scene a flash back before? In a flash back you don't talk past tense because you are looking back at what really happened. Ok, yeah, let's just do this.

"I'm really excited for our date!" I excitedly text. We are going to meet at the mall and walk around. It's completely free and air-conditioned. I cannot tell you how long it has been since I have been in a mall. Months, it's been months.

"Hay can you buy my friends lunch at the mall?" Asks Tommy,23, unemployed.

"What? No, I'm not even buying myself lunch." I protest. What, I'm not. The whole point was that we won't be spending money. Yes, I again am overlooking the fact that I am driving to a place that he is walking to, so yes, I am going to pay Ruby for the gas.

"I know, it's just that me and my friends get hungry at the mall and we like to have our lunch there." Tommy protested.

BOOK: Divorced Dating and Damn Drama
13.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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