Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Finding True Love

True love is hard to find. Every year, desperate single people spend thousands of dollars on dating sites, at the gym, and going to bars, all in an attempt to meet that perfect someone. I'm known for my impatience and what some people consider to be a defect, I consider to be a great skill. I have the uncanny ability to detect a man from miles away, who I believe will be the perfect one-night-stand. And while none of these episodes have ever resulted in marriage (dodged the bullet) or children (I'm on 70 forms of birth control), they have always been wildly successful where love is concerned.

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was watching the Pats game in Boston when an aggressively attractive man leaned over and said, "I think we should kiss." He fit all of my criteria perfectly. Hot body, just dumb enough to immediately ask for a makeout session, young, attractive with the perfect degree of drunken swagger. Upon further review, I found out he was a minor-league pitcher. This fact cinched it for me and far be it from me to deny a burgeoning athlete a smooch, however, I was with a gaggle of married people and wasn't ready to be fully ex-communicated so I tried to act like a lady and responded, "How about I write my number on your arm and we bang later instead?" This worked wonderfully.

A few hours later this drunken savage showed up at my apartment. Sex happened, it was life-changing. Turns out inebriated sportsmen don't mince words. He had little to say but we agreed that we had a lot in common as we both liked to be naked and we both liked The Postal Service. It was meant to be. The next morning he flew back to Kansas City or Pittsburgh or wherever he was from. We sexted for a few months but in the end, our time together was brief. But, like a gentleman, he left me with something that would keep me remembering him for years.

After a few days, I realized I wasn't feeling so hot. I had a fever and my back hurt so badly that it was becoming impossible to sext the minor-league pitcher pictures of my breasts. I knew I had to do something so I waited until I was basically unable to walk and then I went to the doctor. (Such an idiot.)

Ultimately I was diagnosed with a kidney infection.

Me: Am I dying?

Dr: No, you have a kidney infection.

Me: How did I get it?

Dr: Have you been sexually active recently?

Me: Ya, it's been great. I had sex with a stranger that I met in a bar on a Sunday. Could that have done it?

Dr: *literally just throwing condoms at me*

Me: I gotta go.

Unfortunately there was a bit of a mix-up at said doctor's. It took a while for them to prescribe the right antibiotic and then they lost one of my urine samples leaving me with a 104 degree temperature for over a week. Finally, I was forced to go on short-term disability because I had missed so much work. And each night, as my friends stopped by to cover me with ice or feed me broth, I couldn't help but think that maybe the minor-league pitcher and I really had something. I never told him about my kidney infection but I'm sure he was concerned when the sexts slowed down. That's the fantastic thing about anonymous sex with strangers. You don't have to talk a lot. I had no explaining to do for my lack in communication. We never did see each other again. But I would gladly contract another crippling disease if it meant we could, once again, be together. I don't claim to know a lot about relationships but I'm pretty sure that's what true love is.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

A Conversation With Phil Collins

Musicians write songs for people; people they love, people they hate, and people they may never see again. They write down the words they couldn’t find in the moment, set those words to music and then offer them up for the world to hear. And unless you’re participating in an East Coast/West Coast rap battle, you rarely get a chance to respond.

I like to imagine that Phil Collins wrote his epic love ballad, Against All Odds, just for me. Mr. Collins, I have a few things to say…

Phil Collins: How can I just let you walk away, just let you leave without a trace?

Me: Without a trace? Take it easy pal, I said you could keep the couch.

PC: When I stand here taking every breath with you, ooh.

Me: Excuse me?

PC: You're the only one who really knew me at all.

Me: Phil, you’re being dramatic. Tons of people “get” you.

PC: How can you just walk away from me, when all I can do is watch you leave?

Me: An excellent question. Why don’t you do me a solid and get the door.

PC: Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain, and even shared the tears.

Me: I’d say it was mostly the tears that I wasn’t really in to.

PC: You're the only one who really knew me at all.

Me: I feel like we just did this.

PC: So take a look at me now.

Me: Seriously?

PC: Cause there's just an empty space.

Me: Phil, you’re dead inside.

PC: And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face.

Me: And the couch! My grandma gave me that couch and I am giving it to you. You’re welcome.

PC: Take a look at me now.

Me: Good grief, Phil.

PC: Cause there's just an empty space.

Me: *blank staring*

PC: And you coming back to me is against all odds and that's what I've got to face.

Me: Listen Phil, it’s been great but I should really…

PC: I wish I could just make you turn around.

Me: Are we not done here?

PC: Turn around and see me cry.

Me: Again with the crying?

PC: There's so much I need to say to you.

Me: More? You have been babbling since I walked in the door.

PC: So many reasons why.

Me: I have reasons too. You’re short, you’re not interesting, you never wake up to take the dog out and sometimes you drool when you talk.

PC: You're the only one who really knew me at all.

Me: You’re doing it. It’s just a little bit of drool that seeps out of the side of your mouth. Super gross.

PC: So take a look at me now.

Me: I hate this.

PC: Cause there's just an empty space

Me: Ya know what? I’m leaving. This is crazy.

PC: And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face.

Me: Fine. I’ll leave the picture of us at Space Mountain.

PC: Take a look at me now.

Me: I literally wish I was blind.

PC: Cause there's just an empty space

Me: You’re right. I’m taking the couch. You don’t deserve it.

PC: But to wait for you, well that's all I can do and that's what I've got to face

Me: Bye Phil. You really blew it.