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.

Shit Balls and Sharpie

I left work early today after a phone call from my doctor. I made some calls myself to a few people. As per usual, Zach came in clutch.

Me: I mean… Yikes.

Zach: That’s a nice way of putting it. This might warrant a “holy fucking shit balls,” Jess.

Me: Thanks, asshole.

Zach: Eh, some things change. You and me? We’re constants. I’ll Sharpie your face in every bathroom stall to keep you around. I can look at you while I shit, and it don’t get much realer than that, sweetness. Now dry your eyeballs. You might look cute when you’re pissed, but you look damned pathetic when you’re belly achin’… stop that shit.

He turned away to look out the bar’s window.

I’m pretty sure I saw tears welling in his eyes. Fuck, this shit is getting too real.

I ordered two more shots. They took the edge off and put a fire back in my belly. And then I went home from the bar to cry some more and write this post.

Zach Conversations

He said he loved me.

Was this during sex? Because chicks yell out “OH GOD” and “OH DADDY” while I’m fuckin’ ’em and I really doubt they think I’m either of those things. If so… well, we have bigger problems than America’s education system.

I wanna go somewhere… Take a vacation from the bullshit.

I like going on vacation with girls that don’t get tan lines… If you know what I mean.

I think I have cancer.

Shit, seriously? Eh, just think of it like I do STDs. If I have the clap and I don’t know about it, it’s the same as not having it.

PSA: If you see a 6’1″ blonde dude who drinks too much and always wears muscle tees and tank tops, don’t have sex with him.

Zach, Fix It

I did something bad, and my buddy Zach had to fix it.


Me: *pats his cheek* I owe everyone, sugar, but I think you’re the only one who has a rather large debt to pay back to me.


Me: Do we really need to do this?


Me: I’ve bailed you outta jail twice, told about four of your flavors of the week to fuck off because “you’re mine” and even KISSED you to make it real, driven your drunk ass home who knows how many times, pulled you away from that gay guy while you were making out-

Zach: ALL RIGHT, STOP! …let’s not mention that last one again.

And here I am telling all of my readers about it.

To be fair, I kinda goaded him into kissing the gay man. Next thing I knew, Zach was getting up from his stool at the bar saying, “I’ll fuckin’ do it.”

I had to spend the rest of the next day convincing Zach he still exclusively liked women. “Do you like tits? Okay, you’re straight. Do you like penises? No? Okay, you’re still straight.” I think Zach was still drunk the morning we had that talk, so he just kinda…

Wedding Manners

My buddy Chris got engaged yesterday. He was really hungover from St. Patty’s day with his girl and he said, “If I can stand a hangover and all the bullshit she’s thrown my way for the last four years… I should marry her.” He proposed without a ring, at the kitchen table, while the two of them were drinking coffee and popping aspirin.

If that ain’t a love story, I don’t know what is.

He asked Zach and Sam to be his groomsmen (I think Chris is going to ask his brother to be his best man). And then the groom put some conditions on my being able to attend the wedding. I’m pretty sure the terms came from his wet blanket of a fiancee, but whatever.

Chris: Jess, if you wanna come to my wedding you have to graduate from an etiquette class.

Me: …fuck you. I’ll mourn the end of your bachelorhood with a drink with the barkeep. NAKED. BUTT FUCKING NAKED.

Zach: Sorry, man. If Jess is naked at a bar, I gotta be there. No wedding for me neither.

Camaraderie at its finest.

Besides, I’ve been to charm school. My bloodline may go back to the Celts and Mongol horde, but I know how to be a darling when it matters.

Hold Me Closer

My run was rather uneventful last night. No catcalls, no guys following or trying to talk to me, and certainly no one trying to start a fight. Or maybe there were assholes trying to start shit but I just didn’t hear because I had my headphones in my tiny ear canals (seriously, purchasing the right-sized earbuds is a hassle).

Thing is… I was asking for it. I was hoping the big, scary city of Baltimore would bare its teeth and throw me into a Colosseum to fend for my own. Instead I got homeless people leering at me for the paper in my pocket. Joke’s on them; I had none.

This was’t a very perspective aligning exercise (pun intended) at all. At least that’s what I thought until I got to Sam’s house.

I sprinted to Sam’s apartment (because Pigtown is the sort of place you shouldn’t dilly dally) and knocked on the front door like I was the Gestapo looking for Jews. The door swung open and there was Sam. “Get your ass in here, you dumb shit.”

“Hey, I love you too, you douche canoe.”

“Why can’t you be normal and just drink when you have problems?! I’m gonna move to a different apartment in a safer place so you don’t try to kill yourself on the way to my house.”

“I’m not trying to kill myself; I have a gun for that. I drank last night and it was only a temporary fix. Life and death matters tend to put shit in order, but that was a terrible run as far as life and death go. Not a single person took a swing at me. I was expecting more from a city that had riots a few months ago. Besides… who said I had problems?”

“Zach did.”

“That fucker.” I don’t like it when Sam knows about my problems. He immerses himself into them and I feel embarrassed when everything is on parade for him. He’s one of those people that has his shit together and I feel ashamed when he knows just how much I fuck up. But that’s typically how things work out since Sam and Zach are cousins and I shoot the breeze with Zach all the time. “So how much did you hear?”

“A lot of it. However much Zach felt like saying. He liked pointing out the fact that you turn into a little bitch when you’re sad. He said you cried too much over a guy who used you.”

That stung… and then it started to ache. I guess my face showed the hurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. Jess, I’m sorry.” I sat on the floor and started to cry. Zach was right about one thing: I do cry too much. Sam sat next to me and rubbed my shoulder. “I’m so sorry this happened. I know you liked him a lot. He doesn’t know what he missed out on. You’ll find a guy who treats you like one of those fucking lifeguard rings – he won’t let you go.” That made me cry harder. I placed my head on his lap; he patted my back. We stayed like that for a long while before I said I needed a shower and a change of clothes while I washed my sweaty gym duds. I did his laundry too as payment.

“Hey Jess, I don’t want you to think the wrong thing, but you can sleep in my bed if you want. Whenever I break up with a girl, I find that physical contact is pretty nice. I won’t do anything weird; I’ll just pat your back.”

“Well I sure as shit ain’t gonna say no to that.” And that’s how we slept. Both of us in basketball shorts and T-shirts, my back pressed against his chest, one of his arms draped over my rib cage.

It felt nice until I remembered I wasn’t curled up with Michael. I cried some more. Sam’s arm tightened around my chest, pulling me towards him. “You’ll be all right, little one. You’ll be just fine.”

I guess I will be.

She’s Not Cinderella

It’s Saturday morning. If I had a TV I’d probably watch cartoons, but I don’t. Instead I usually receive a phone call, text, or visit from Zach and/or Sam, my real-life Looney Toons characters.

Zach came over for coffee at about 0700.

Me: You’re never up at this hour unless if you haven’t slept the night before.

Zach: Yeah, so? Can I have some coffee?

He asked me this as he was taking the coffee grounds out of the cabinet and filling the Keurig with water. He’s either an asshole or we’re really good friends. Probably both.

Me: So how was your evening?

Zach: I went out on a date that I didn’t even wanna go on.

Me: It couldn’t have been that bad if it’s ending just now.

Zach: She was supposed to be a one-and-done chick. I picked her up at a bar; you never keep those around.

Me: I didn’t know you had such strong principles on who you rail. What made you bust?

Zach: The way her tits bounce when she’s on top. HAHAHAHA!!! *I glared at him over my coffee cup* She left a ring at my place and I had to return it to her.

Me: I bet it was a $2 ring from a fucking yard sale. She probably just wanted a reason to see you again and you fell for it.

Zach: I don’t wanna hear anything out of you about people leaving shit behind. Remember that shitty take-out Tupperware Michael left here that I told you to throw away when you thought things were over?! AND YOU KEPT IT?! God, you’re such a girl sometimes.

Me: Okay, a few things. When I peed this morning, I definitely had a vagina so I’m a girl alla time. I didn’t meet Michael in a bar… AND he’s way closer to being Cinderella, leaving his fucking glass slipper at my place, than ANY chick that you’ve banged.

Zach: You’re right.

Me: I know it. So why’d you stay up all night, besides… ya know?

Zach: I made sure we went back to her place so she couldn’t leave anything with me. She lives in the city; you’re apartment was on the way back home. Besides, you always feed me and let me sleep here after a rough night.

Fucker just ate all my cookies and is sleeping in MY bed… and I know he saw me putting sheets on the spare mattress for him too!