Cocktales
Page 6
“Sorry about this, but he wouldn't shut up. So he’s all yours,” he chuckles, then seeing my frustration shrugs and says, “He’s busted up about his behavior, Dee. Trust me, I’ve heard about if for hours. Ask him, he’ll spill.”
“So much for bacon and an orgasm.”
“Come again?”
“I was mid-fantasy. I was about to be served a pound of bacon while I—”
“I get it,” he says holding his hand up. “He was jealous, he over reacted, and he’s sorry.”
“No,” I argue pointing at the evidence. “He’s drunk and passed out on my floor.”
“Deeeeeee,” Oliver says rolling to his back, flapping his arms around. “My Dee, the most beautiful girl in Dee-troit. No. The world!”
“Terrific,” I groan in real agony. “He’s a sappy drunk.”
“He’s into you,” he says grinning. “Says a lot when he’s never been into anyone long as I’ve known him.”
“Dee can ride a cock, partner,” he slurs from the floor.
“It’s true,” I shrug seeing no reason to deny it. “I consider it leg day.”
“Did not need to know that,” he coughs out. “But kinda glad I do.”
“She does this thing with her pussy—”
“And with that, I’m out.”
Slamming the door behind him, I look down at Oliver asking him, “Are you sorry?”
“About that punk? Noooo,” he slurs badly. “I missed you, got jealous.”
“Okay, whisky dick,” I say kneeling down next to him. “You won’t remember this but I’m going to ask anyway. Call it leverage.” When he gives me a lopsided grin I go for it. “Why me?”
“You’re beautiful, smart, and funny,” he says earnestly as only a drunk can. “Thick as fuck too. I like that a lot. Plus, you can hold your liquor and you’re not like her.”
“I’m not like who?” I ask despite knowing the answer.
“Dating Diva,” he shouts far too loud for my liking. “You don’t listen to her. You're better than her. I asked you out and you said yes. No one ever says yes.”
“Oliver, she’s just a person. She’s not to blame for your problems.”
“She’s a bitch,” he whisper yells. “And a whore.”
“You know what?” I say tasting victory, “I think you’re into her.”
“Ha!” he snorts rubbing his dick. “She always gets the last word!”
“Because you're into her…” Say it, admit it, you fucker.
“Am not,” he pouts but I can see it on his plastered face. Oliver feels guilty.
“Oliver?” I ask moving closer and wow, he smelled like stale beer. “Are you falling for me?”
“Deeee,” he coos reaching for me and not succeeding. “I already fell. Hey, am I on the floor?”
“Yes.”
“Dee?” he whines licking his lips.
“What, Oliver?”
“I’m gonna get you pregnant so you’ll marry me,” he declares as I gripped the fork tight. “Then you have to love me.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I groan standing up, so done with his shit.
“You wanna fuck right now?” he asks fumbling with his jeans.
“Yeah, Oliver, I do. Get started, I’ll be right back.”
“Mine,” he whispers reaching in his pants. Pulling out his soft penis, I rolled my eyes, stepped over his drunk ass and went back to bed.
When I opened my eyes, three questions needed answering immediately.
Why was I on Dee’s floor?
Why was my head pounding?
And why were my pants down?
Groaning, I roll to my stomach and push myself up to my hands and knees. Last night’s bar trip was why my head was splitting but the last two baffled me. If I fucked my girl and didn’t remember, I was going to be pissed. Well, that and if I was too blitzed to get her off then she was going to be pissed.
Careful not to move too fast, I sat back on my haunches and with blurry eyes saw Dee leering at me from the kitchen table. “Mornin,” she says sipping her coffee. “Headache?”
“You have no i—” and then she reached behind her back, pulled out an actual bullhorn and yelled, “Your dick’s out.”
Covering my ears, I lose balance, tip over and promptly curl into a ball. Ready to suck my thumb or shit myself, at least I knew now she was, in fact, pissed.
Without another word, which I was grateful for, she left the room and I heard her start the shower. Crawling into her kitchen, I grab a glass of water and the first pills I could find. No, I did not care it was Midol. Because it said it helped with cramps and my stomach was cramping like a mother fucker. That done, I chose the couch and fell on it like I was full of lead.
Minutes later, when she comes back out and takes the seat across from me, that’s when I got pissed.
“I would take care of you if you were down,” I say quietly because my words hurt. “Least you could have done was put me in bed.”
“That’s true,” she says using her inside voice. “But then you have an advantage over me. Seeing as, I can’t get you pregnant.”
“Huh?”
“Think on it,” she says standing. “It’ll come back to you.”
She wasn’t gone five minutes when I remembered. Oh yeah, I remembered. Shit.
Forcing myself from the couch, I hit her bedroom just as she’s pulling her hair up. “I was drunk,” I defend lamely. “I didn’t mean it.” It was a lie and we both knew it. I distinctly remember telling Graham my idea and him spitting out his beer. After that, things got blurry...
“Since I’m not getting pregnant or trapped into marriage, I won’t stew but… You still owe me an apology.”
“I was jealous, Dee, it happens.”
“No, you were a judgmental asshole and that happens often.”
“Like you wouldn’t get jealous if you caught me with some random woman.”
“Before I got to that point, I would get the facts, Oliver. But I have no reason not to trust you. Add to that, we aren’t exclusive. And I wasn’t caught, thank you very much. To get caught would imply I had done something wrong and I didn’t.”
“We’re sleeping together which means we don’t see other people, Dee.”
“Who agreed to that?” she laughs haughtily. “I didn’t.”
“You’re still seeing other people?”
“No,” she defends snottily. “But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be within my rights to.”
“I won’t share you.” I felt the need to clarify through a whisper.
“Share me? Oliver, you don’t own me. You will never own me. No man will. And no fake baby or sham of marriage will change how I feel about it either.”
“Work,” I growl when my pocket screams at me. “Fuck!” Pissed off, confused and hungover I turn to leave. But just before I made it through the front door she calls for me. “Oliver?”
“What is it, Dee?”
“Your dick’s still out.”
Then she slammed her bedroom door in my face and I slammed her front door behind me on my way out.
Three weeks into our exclusive-non-exclusive relationship, I asked myself often why I bothered.
Did I want revenge bad enough to tolerate the hissy fits he was prone to?
Most days the answer is no, but then there are the days I waiver.
And believe me, I didn't like that I was.
Everything centered around Oliver's schedule, Oliver's days off, Oliver's moods.
We never went out. We stayed in. We had our meals delivered.
I was bored as fuck.
Plus, we were fighting. Constantly.
Between dealing with his man-drama, wrapping up my move and writing, I was wore out.
Then, my O Face column suddenly gained national attention and life got crazy. Color me jazzed when it was brought up on late night television. Then my fan base sky rocketed and boom, the O Face became my full time job.
As if life wasn't insane enough,
stressful enough, on a Thursday night I get a notification from O.
Dating Diva,
Congrats on gaining national attention.
I'm sure you'll love ruining relationships on a global level.
O
What the actual fuck? What was his malfunction? Seriously!
Dear O,
I'm worried about you. This obsession you have with me can't be healthy.
DD
Twenty minutes later he wrote…
Dating Diva,
Don't be. I've only got eyes for one woman.
O
Five minutes later, I blathered on…
Dear O,
I'm afraid I'm going to need proof. Because blow up dolls don't pay taxes.
DD
Dating Diva,
Trust me, she's as real as your advice is fake.
O
Ugh, he was such an asshole!
Time to take things up a notch.
Shit was about to get serious.
Operation Obliterate Oliver was officially in full swing.
I just came like a geyser when Dee snuggled into me and finally passed out.
My woman had a ridiculous amount of stamina, made me work for her orgasm and gave as good as she got. Wearing her out, no lie, was like being given a badge of honor.
In my life I never knew having a woman of my own could be this settling.
But I knew it was just her.
It was all Dee.
See, I had a shit week, lost four people in an apartment fire and Dee took care of me. Anything I needed, she provided.
Her body, her attention and her time.
It's like a wall crumbled and finally, fucking finally, she's all in.
Honestly, it's been beyond incredible.
In between work and Dee, I shouldn't have found time or needed to message Dating Diva.
But I had, I did.
Often.
I had an ongoing thread with this woman, who, for some fucking reason I enjoyed bantering with. I actually looked forward to it.
Dating Diva was open in ways Dee wasn't. She got to me in a way Dee didn't.
The problem was, I felt like I was cheating on my girlfriend.
I wasn’t. I mean, I wasn't that guy. I would never be with another woman physically.
But I have a strong suspicion that the emotional feelings I have for a woman I hate would constitute some sort of betrayal.
And yet, I still did it.
Lately I kept my phone nearby for two reasons: access to Dee and Dating Diva.
Shit was whacked and I didn’t know how to handle it.
So I decided not handle it.
At least not right now.
I promised myself that once I finally got the final word in with Dating Diva, I'd quit her cold turkey. But I wasn't sure when I went from needing the last word, to letting her have it.
So here we are, Dee was set to move in two days.
Her condo was practically empty now with the big items in the storage unit she rented just outside of the city.
Believe it or not, she actually let me help her move her things there.
To me this was a huge step for us.
Truly integrating our lives together.
In fact, she wanted me to see her place as much as I wanted her to see mine.
Next week, we both carved out time to make that happen.
I was ecstatic.
Our relationship was progressing.
I had a girlfriend.
We were a couple.
Life’s been pretty fucking amazing ever since.
She is the one and soon, there was no question for me.
Within the year I'd have her living with me.
Then I'd propose.
“You’re not sleeping,” she mumbles rubbing her eyes.
“Not tired.”
“Wanna do it?” she asks stretching out like a kitten.
“If we keep moving forward, does it make sense to you to have that house when you’re just going to end up living with me anyway?”
“Don’t do this when I’m half asleep, or ever for that matter,” she visibly tenses.
“It’s the only time your guard is down,” I say. “Or when you're drinking, which, let's be real here, is a little too much.”
“I have to drink to fucking function when all you do is talk about moving in together, Oliver. Which is all the damn time! I can literally ask you what you would like for dinner and it becomes a conversation about living together. We’ve been dating less than a month.”
“So? When you know, you know. I’m almost forty, I want a wife and a family. I retire in five years and I want to be able to see my kids, be a good dad. I can’t do that if we live in separate houses, Dee. I can barely handle it now.”
“Okay stop,” she says with real fury. “First, I've never agreed to spending weekends together, let alone a lifetime. Second, I don't want kids or marriage at this point in my life and I've been really vocal about that. Third, stop pushing the American dream on me. It's pissing me off.”
“It’s what I want.” How does she not get this?
“Did you not hear a word I said?”
“You honestly don’t?” I was shocked. All women wanted this.
“I'm not committing to kids and a marriage. It's too soon for this kind of talk and you know it.”
“Not for me, I know, Dee.”
“You know what exactly?”
“That I love you,” I couldn't help but blurt. I'd waited too long as it was. “That I want forever.”
At this she was silent. And because I couldn’t take the silence, instead of giving her a chance to speak, to process, I got up, dressed and went home.
God, I was pathetic.
I got what I wanted, victory was mine, and yet, I felt horrible.
It’s what I wanted to hear, I had waited patiently to claim victory, then it was handed to me and I froze up. I said nothing back. But I had a feeling my expression said it all for me.
I think resting bitch face was my super power...
Listen, I didn't love him back.
I wasn't ever going to love him back, I knew this.
I mean, I cared, kind of.
In this weird I'm doing this for your own good, your future wife will thank me kind of care.
Look I wasn't a total asshole.
But I was supposed to make him rue the day he spurned Dating Diva leaving him broken.
He wasn't supposed to throw it in the ring like that. Not yet.
Because I love you change things.
Now we're next level. A level I wanted zero part of.
Shit, it was time to tell him the truth wasn't it? Only I wasn’t ready yet.
Why? I have no idea since we don't want the same things out of life.
The man despised the real me.
And I didn't want much to do with him outside of some casual sex and a bloody forking.
God, not only was revenge a fool’s errand, but I had become a truly awful person.
Truth? I didn't feel nearly as bad about it as I should.
I could do this.
I could keep going until my revenge was complete.
Until I was satisfied.
This was a recipe for disaster, I fucking knew it.
And yet, I wanted the disaster.
I wanted his destruction.
So I logged on to my blog and started typing O.
Even I couldn’t believe how twisted this was.
Jesus, I was an even bigger douche than Oliver…
Yes, maybe I was. But, he started it.
It was time for me to finish it.
Opening my browser, I did just that.
Dear O,
He did it.
He fell in love with me.
I know, shocker right?
One man for me, possibly, for-ever.
Is he crazy?
Am I crazy?
Dating Diva
(PS, I’m out of pill
s. Got any?)
One hour later…
Dating Diva,
I need a favor.
I know I’m a dick, you know that I don’t like you and that hasn't changed.
But, I still need the favor.
O
And this is how horror movies start...
O,
Depends on the favor.
DD
Dating Diva,
Meet me. In person.
O
See? Told you.
O,
If you’re going to kill me, at least give me the heads up so I can come prepared.
DD
Dating Diva,
I don’t want to kill you, I want to apologize and I need to see your face to do it.
O
Why stop now? Shit was just getting good so, I sallied forth.
O,
Time and place.
DD
Dating Diva,
Tomorrow, Starbucks, Woodward, ten am.
O
(Breaks out booze and doesn't bother with mixers)
O,
I’ll be there sporting my vintage Tupac tank top. If you plan to stuff me in your trunk, I’ll forewarn you, I bite.
DD
Dating Diva,
I’m in love with her and I want to apologize to you, that’s it.
O
Aww, someone feels guilty...
O,
You just did, why not leave it at that?
DD
Dating Diva,
Can’t. Tomorrow, ten.
O
Remember that disaster I mentioned?
Call FEMA...
Sitting in the corner of a Starbucks waiting on Dating Diva to apologize then leave was fucking with me. Keeping this from my woman was seriously fucking with me.
So I had to clear the air. Apologize and move on from Dating Diva for good.
Because the fact was, she changed. I read it myself word for word. I no longer hated her, per se. I was just done lashing out on her. So I was putting her blog behind me, my hate behind me. I was moving on.