He Took My Advice

You should try to actually date someone, not just fuck ’em.

Women always disappoint.

The fuck you say?

Not you, Fizz. No disappointments from you. Not ever.

You should give someone a chance anyway. And you’re not going to do that while having a drink with me.

And then he asked me to marry him. He used my own advice against me.

I told him that I’m happy with Kris. That I love him dearly. I saw my words crumple his already trampled heart.

I left him at the bar. This was a wound I wouldn’t be able to help him heal.

I’m a fool for hoping that we can still be friends.

This world is not for the weak or kind.

Fortunately, Zach is neither of those things.

Out of the Wood Work

It’s funny when word travels and people know you’re not seeing anyone anymore. The girls ask if you’re all right and then suggest a night of drinking.

The guys… They start to extend their little feelers out and test the water. Going out on the town for an evening becomes a loaded event.

You wanna go out this weekend?

Maybe. I’ll see if I can get the guys together and we can paint the town red.

Oh. I was thinking it could be more of a one-on-one sort of deal. Maybe we could get dinner and go for a walk in the city. Try our luck on a lottery ticket, drink shots of tequila while we hang our feet over the harbor…

That’s the terrible thing about friends who ask you out: they know all of your favorite things to do.

Eh, what the hell; it sounds like a good time.

Besides, it’d be pretty fucked up if I told him “no” when I have three other dates set up (today, tomorrow, and the day after).

Conclusion: Some people find me cute as fuck.


You’d think the Friend Zone would be nice, but all I found were enemies…

I broke it to him gently…

Now that I think about it, it’s probably nice to be in my Friend Zone. I dunno. I think I treat my friends pretty damned well. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars bailing a few out of jail (it’s always the same fucking ones), I let them shit in peace at my place (and I have soft toilet paper, mind you), and if one of them ever said, “Jess, I need your help. I can’t tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we’re gonna hurt some people,” I’d say the proper response: “…whose car are we gonna take?”

The line above is from The Town. I’m not clever enough to come up with that.


I sent out an SOS and everybody came out in full force. Text messages, SnapChats, people visiting with cakes, and hugs…more hugs and cuddles than I thought a girl could ever have.

I talked to my father as well. He said Michael was wise for recognizing that he isn’t ready for a relationship. “Sweetheart, if you’ve had a boyfriend before, there’s a line of a million guys waiting to make you happy. You’d have 10 million if you were back down to your fighting weight of 140 pounds though. Just remember that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach so learn how to cook, and make up doesn’t hurt.”

Ian offered to have his fingernails removed (he used to be a dealer and “knows some people”) and Jay said he could run Michael’s car through a chop shop down in Silver Spring. “At the very least I can pop three tires. Insurance don’t cover that shit if it’s only three.”

I mentioned it to my brother in passing. He gave me a lot of shit for crying…and then I saw this on his Facebook.

Some other messages:



I feel very loved. And as much as I find all of these “Let’s beat the shit outta Michael” messages amusing, I really don’t want anything bad to happen to him at all. I guess that means this was a good thing.

I just feel…empty.

About a week before I decided I was going to be a dumbass and ask Michael what he wanted of me (I still don’t fucking know the answer to that question), I wrote a script of sorts. Stupid paper. Stupid Jessica for writing it.

Me: Why do I look at this piece of paper like it’s a death waiver?

Matt: Because he’s like a weird investment in your life and you don’t want to run the risk.

I may have a gambling problem.