Here's your place to come talk about sex and love whenever you feel like it.
I feel like a walking open wound. Festering, maybe. Everyone keeps telling me I look amazing. I’m eating one frozen diet lunch a day. That’s pretty much it.
The thing about being the first of your friends to blow up a marriage is no one can really relate. It’s not just a break-up where you split up your books and things; there are lawyers involved, your family is pushing you to work it out and your friends keep asking if it’s “amicable.” No one wants a mess. I think it makes them look at their own lives a little.
It’s really hard and lonely. I was not raised to feel sorry for myself, but to just get through things. I’m trying.
I only have one friend who is going through this. He’s not divorced yet either, but he’s focused on moving forward. He keeps telling me it’s better to focus on the future. I didn’t tell him I’m stalking my ex’s girlfriends on the Internet. Even though I’ve thrown him out and told him it’s over, I keep wondering what these girls have that I don’t. I set up fake Facebook accounts to try to friend them, follow them on Twitter and tweet that they are whores. Ex called me crying and wanted to know why I put it out there for the whole world to see.
I’m not being really rational or cool. My balanced “normal” friends who are married or engaged keep telling me I’m above this, and to take some time to heal. Fuck that.
I got on the G train at 9 pm last night to meet some of my more um, dirtbaggy friends in Willamsburg to party. No one really knows everything that’s going on with me, and I don’t feel like talking about it. I have $300 cash in my pocket (the whole not eating thing is really helping my bank account).
I meet my friends at a dive Italian restaurant for dinner, but really we’re just using it as a spot to wait for the guy. My friend Todd calls the guy; we order a couple of cheap bottles of wine and wait. The guy shows up about 20 minutes later and Todd goes out front. I’ve given him $200 and he comes back with two bags of coke for me. I put one away for later (magical thinking) and Todd, myself and this girl Jess go into the bathroom. We’ve all got blow and we start doing key bumps right away. I put everything from my baggy into a little makeup case when we’re done.
We head north somewhere after dinner to another party in a not-so-great neighborhood. We stop for Red Bulls and vodka at a bodega and the cashier is in a glass box like the Pope-mobile. I’m really high.
At the party, they’ve taken a full length mirror off the wall and are trying to create the world’s longest line. Drug use doesn’t make people that smart, but the music is good, everyone is having a good time and I get into a very fast, excited conversation with a couple of cute guys. I don’t feel good, exactly. I don’t feel anything and that’s better than feeling bad.
For some reason, we leave the party and head to a bar. I think they had run out of booze at the party. We close the bar and Todd says I should stay over because it’s too late to take the train back. We head back to his place and do a few more lines on his coffee table and start fooling around on his couch. I’ve known him forever, but I was always with ex and we never hooked up. He’s a great kisser. I’ve always been attracted to him, but this feels like I’m in a movie and looking down on what’s happening.
Our clothes come off while the sun is coming up. He has the weirdest dick I’ve ever seen. It’s long, but really skinny, really purple and points totally to one side. He appears to have waxed or shaved all his pubic hair off, including his balls, which is a new one for me, but I haven’t seen a lot of new dick until recently.
He tells me to show him my pussy and I spread my legs wide. He puts his cock in me, pushes me on my back and starts in. It feels good, but not great. I’m so high I don’t really feel anything emotional, even though I do care about him. I can feel his cock poking on the one side, which is kind of annoying. I can tell I’m not going to come.
Afterward, he wants to go to bed and invites me to stay. I go to the bathroom and text a girlfriend in the area for a number for a taxi. She laughs at me and sends me one. I call them and Todd sends me off with a hug and a kiss. We both know this was just a one-off. I think.
The car comes and I’m heading over the bridge at 9am. My heart is still broken. It’s Wednesday and I’m going to be late for work.