Silk Pants and the Thai Fighter

I purge my closet every so often.

Meant to do it when I got home from away.
But I didn’t bring back even a fraction of the amount of new clothes I usually do. Tight budget and I had this new outlook thing going… Quantity over quality.

I skipped over buying a Free People dress on for 70% off for 2 reasons.
It was gorgeous and it fit, but it wasn’t stunning.
And I had promised Black 19 I would buy him a rosary, $80 either way. I chose to come bearing gifts instead of treating myself.

Also begged the question, who am I?

Been asking that a lot lately.

But that isn’t what this is about.

This is about a pair of silk pants that I love. They feel so good on and they give me bubble butt.

During this most recent closet purge I pulled them out of their cubby and noticed a stain, I was sad, then nostalgic. Miracle of all miracles tide pen acted like a magic eraser and voila, all better. The pants will live to be worn on another first date.

As I stood, holding the pants, my mind drifted back to the last time I wore them.

First date with the Thai Fighter.

He and his roommate cooked dinner for me and mine.

Good times.

I had a brief wave of nostalgia and decided it was a good idea to look him up on Facebook and say “hey hope all is well.”

It is, he’s engaged.

I didn’t end up saying ‘hey’. I can’t.

I found out he was in a relationship the whole time he was with me.

That wasn’t exactly how he explained it to me.

He even told me he was coming back this year, not like a promise, more like a suggestion.

He ghosted like a pro a few weeks before he was supposed to go home, to her.

At least now I know why.

You know what would be really weird?

If one of them actually stuck around.

Let’s recap shall we? So far this year I found out…

Black 19 sold the rights to access me for 300 bucks.

Poet had 3 other girls on the line at the same time as me that I have met, who knows how many more.

Wait, let’s go even further back.

High School Sweetheart dated eeeerrrrrrbody but me when we lived in the same town, but I was okay to fuck ONCE. He’s married now.

BabyDaddy slept with my best friend.

The Waiter was bisexual and wandered off on Pride Day to “play chess”, came back all sweaty.

Another one stabbed himself in front of me and I stayed with him after so he didn’t kill himself.

The next one beat and raped me.

The one after that disappeared for two weeks to get back with his ex on the other side of the province ‘just to make sure’. Found out about that after we broke up 5 years later. He hit me more than once.

Then hubby and sisterwife fiasco. 7 years of perdition and cheating.

Then Pimp Daddy who earned his nickname by living off my stripper earnings while he quit job after job after job. Then threatened to testify against me in court.

That catches us up to the blog years.

Young Un the first took another girl to Niagara Falls in the truck he borrowed from me.

Sunday only wanted me once a week.

The Hulk bailed too. I get it, but fuck.

Gelfling, Wolfling ‘poof’ gone.

Then the guy who lied about his name and stalked me.

Then Giant left me for not-Becky the traveling waitress.

Haven’t seen the Lumberjack in 90 days.

Now the new Thai Fighter info and we are up to date.

I think I am going to die alone.

I laid in bed last night and that thought washed over me.

I think I am so punch drunk that I haven’t internalized the enormity of this.

I don’t even know if I care at this point.

That psychic I saw said I needed to focus less on the man I want and more on the relationship I want.

But see above where I have no reference point whatsoever.

Even the book is fucked. The two main characters don’t even live together and the whole thing is twisted.

I am almost done the book and I am trying to figure out how to pry her away from the Poet-type character she was originally in love with, but I forgot to make him a monster. To be fair, I didn’t have all the information when I started. I didn’t know about the others or that he is incapable of love.

For a minute I thought I should rewrite his parts, take the humanity out of him, but it’s too far gone.

I want it done and over with.

I have a fairy tale themed book I want to write, less gang bangs more dragons.

In this book, the Giant-type character rescues her.

“I wonder who I would run to if I was drunk in a room with everyone I ever loved.”

I don’t wonder, I know.

I have run to him drunk and sober a few times now. He ran to me a few times too.

But, as it stands

I was late for this, late for that
Late for the love of my life
But when I die alone
When I die alone
When I die I’ll be on time.

The Lumineers~Cleopatra

I always thought there would be a reckoning, you know? Like one day it would all make some sense.

But I’m tired of searching through the wreckage looking for clues.

I never like what I find anyways.

I’m exhausted by the dead resurrecting themselves with a resounding ‘sup?’

I feel like the conflict portion of my fairy tale should be over by now.

How much deeper into the woods do I need to go before I can have forehead kisses and pancakes on Sunday morning?

I am ready to close this chapter and move forward into my happily ever after.