Sunday, May 31, 2015

500 Words: Day 11 - A Whole Lot of Nope

500 words about waiting for it to be time for my date with OkCupid Dude from where I'm currently traveling. The classic convention hook-up which is just so wrong and horrible and ugh. I wrote them but I wasn’t going to post them because it was way TMI  even for me but then everyone on that group page was like tapping their toes going, "We're WAIT-ing" so I said "All right then, if it's that important to you, you sadistic voyeurs." But I took out the stuff about sex.  I’ma start an anonymous tumblr and park all the NSFW nonsense over there and y’all can subscribe.   (Spoiler: I didn't sleep with him) 

No, this 500 words is all about insecurity, body image issues, false bravado and a lot of nope.  

Nope nope nope.  Nope nope.  Nope nope nope nope.   Like the Morse code of nope.  Ugh.  Why did I agree to meet this guy?  My life is a series of things that seemed like a good idea at the time.  I was so close to texting to say something came up, but that’s chickenshit, and the couple of times that someone did that to me were really discouraging.  Assholes do that and I’m not an asshole.  Well, maybe I am sometimes, but not about breaking dates at the last minute.  So instead of FINALLY getting some ALONE TIME (which I crave and without which I will shrivel up and die), sitting cross-legged on the bed and drinking beer and flipping channels and writing 500 words, and taking a really long shower because we’re not in California any more, Dorothy, I’m looking at my naked self in the three-way mirror (dear god the humanity) and trying to figure out what to wear (from the three outfits I brought and have already worn).  Damnit!  He called my bluff.  I get on that damn website and type away hahaha so funny so droll, but then they call my bluff.  I hate it when my bluff gets called.  Because I totally DID NOT have a full house.  Well, actually, I did, kinda.  I had three diamonds and two clubs.   Tell her what she’s won, Johnny.    Lol.  
No one needs this many mirrors.  I'm just saying.

Those body issues though.   Ugh.  There are too many goddamn mirrors in my hotel bathroom.  Who needs to watch themselves taking a shit?  No one, that’s who.   Ugh again.   Fuck, is that what my ass looks like?  Where did all this cellulite come from?   I always laughed that I would never get divorced because then I would have to date and then I would have to hold my stomach in.    My ex used to say, I love your body, it bore my children, nourished them.  The things that bother you make me love you even more.   But New Dude isn’t going to have any sentimental reasons to love my ugly belly and cellulite and sagging jiggling ugh.  It would just be ugly for nothing.   No good reason.   That’s a lot of nope right there.  

Oh my god I just figured out why hotel designers put fluorescent lights in bathrooms full of way too many mirrors:  They want those cute dudes from CSI to come investigate the suicides.  Jerks.

Here’s the thing: basically I want to curl up in bed in my shmattas  and watch a movie and eat popcorn and throw my head back and laugh with someone I like who doesn't smell like bourbon (blech) and doesn't stumble around on Ambien. Cute with a PhD, maybe. And a LOT OF BOOKS that he isn't a pompous windbag about it when we discuss them. Someone who gets it Who gets ME. Hell, I would shoot for a masters and settle for a college degree in something useless but awesome like creative writing as long as they weren't better than me.   But no, I am going to die alone.  Which is totally okay.  At least I won’t have to hold my stomach in.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. If the man you describe exists at all, he is happy with his own company and not looking for a companion on the internet. Just as you will be in a few months, when then the deluge of single, bookish gentleman will be knocking down your door.